Just Another Day at Hogwarts, Honest!
by Salome Weil
Summary: A tribute to Hermione fanfics, good and bad. Hermione wakes up the morning of her sixteenth birthday to discover that she is really a...pureblood? AU, partial canon
1. In which blah blah blah, adoption!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling (and various and sundry authors from this site).**

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_Once upon a time there lived an authoress who had read so many awkward fan fictions with confused plots (when they had a plot) and little character development (when they had characters) and generally bad timing and build-up…well, I'm sure you get the idea. She asked herself, where is the suspense? Where is the creativity? Where is the good grammar? At any rate, she had a brilliant idea one day. Using her infinite knowledge of both horrible writing and popular Harry Potter fan fiction, she decided to author a tribute to such works in the form of one extremely clichéd, convoluted, and melodramatic story. This is where our story begins…_

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Hermione Granger woke up that day with a splitting headache. It was her sixteenth birthday- or was it her seventeenth…twenty-sixth? She could never keep track anymore. After so many go rounds with the infernal time turner her third year, she'd lost track of just how old she was supposed to be. At any rate, she woke up, and that was quite enough for the time being.

Rolling out of bed, she stared at herself in the mirror disinterestedly and reached for her hairbrush. It wasn't immediately available, as her mum had left a letter for her on top of it. She stared at the letter disinterestedly for a moment and then turned her attention to it more firmly. It was addressed to her (obviously) and was from Hogwarts (again, obviously, because really, who else would send her mail on a fine summer's day?). So, upon realizing that it was from Hogwarts, she tore it open excitedly. She supposed it was a list of books and things she would need for the new year.

Yes, yes…spidery handwriting that detailed classes, books, supplies…and Head Girl? No, no. That couldn't possibly be right. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and blinked again. Oh, bugger. It must be her seventeenth birthday after all, last year at Hogwarts, all that jazz. She flew down the stairs in a rush to tell her parents, still a bit disappointed in her heart of hearts. After all, she'd thought she had a whole 'nother year at the grand hallowed halls of learning.

"Hermione? You're finally up, good, darling. Now sit down and eat your muffin. Your father and I have some very important news for you, in honor of your birthday," her mother said, bustling about in the kitchen's breakfast nook.

Her father rustled his paper a bit and grunted.

"Oh, Mum, I've opened my Hogwarts letter. It must be seventh year after all…so I'm seventeen today, I guess," she said, letting the offending piece of paper flutter down to the table as she took her seat.

Her father put the paper down and stared at her, amused. "Couldn't possibly be, sweetums. You're sixteen today. Mum already put the candles in the cake." He looked very sure and serene, sitting drinking his morning cuppa, so Hermione picked the letter up again to double check, though still neglecting to read it all the way through.

"Mrmph humph mmph," she muttered around a mouthful of buttered muffin and marmalade. What she really meant it to sound like was, "Yeah! You're right." Then she would've gone on to say, "The head girl they originally chose came down with an awful case of the higglybottoms, pastaflounces and hibbildypoobahs. She'll be out for months, maybe even years! Guess I'm the best girl for the job, as usual. Gee! I must be the youngest and oldest witch ever to serve as head girl in the history of the school- I'll have to check my favorite book, _Hogwarts: A History_, after breakfast and see."

Well, she would have said all that, except she was far more fond of morning muffins than talking. It was a secret well kept and one none of her friends knew, which was fortunate for her. She would've been plied with muffins all day to keep her quiet otherwise! And no one likes a fat witch. All those carbs! The sensibilities of it! She was indignant just imagining her friends deliberately stuffing her with harmful sugars and getting her fat for no reason. Although…then she really would have a valid excuse not to get on a broomstick ever again, which, of _course_, everyone knew she was deathly afraid of. She snorted and accidentally inhaled a piece of muffin.

Her parents looked concerned as she started choking and her father patted her back. She hocked the piece of muffin up rather ungracefully and set about making another.

"No, no- I'll get it. You just sit down, dear," her mother said.

"Open a present, for starters," her father implored, shoving several brightly wrapped packages at her. She nodded and gleefully tore into the gifts with the same fervor she opened her Hogwarts letter. Goody! Presents! Nothing like a nice present to start off your birthday right…huh.

She pulled a picture frame out of one box carefully. There was an envelope taped to the glass, efficiently covering up the picture in the frame. She looked at it oddly, then looked to her parents. They smiled back encouragingly.

Ah well. They were getting sentimental in their old age. She pulled the envelope away and gazed at the picture underneath, expecting to see an old family portrait. She gasped, laying a hand to her chest, her heart fluttering madly.

It was an old family portrait, of sorts. At least, the couple in it looked vaguely like her parents…but they weren't. And they were waving and smiling to her. It was a _wizarding _photo. She looked to them both again.

"Open the envelope- there's a letter inside," her father gestured. Her mother stood close by, ignoring the burning smell coming from the muffin toaster. Hermione's heart secretly ached for the mistreated muffins, but she held fast and opened yet another letter.

Her eyes scanned the print quickly. There were two sets of pages. One set was clearly adoption papers. The other set was a letter from her parents. She couldn't tell which ones, though. Oh, this was awfully confusing.

_Dear Hermione, _the letter read, _We hope this letter finds you healthy. _Well, it had done that. _We gave your parents orders not to tell you about the adoption until you were old enough to understand, or were of age, or some such nonsense. We understand there will be some trouble with a time turner in your future, so we know we've no idea how old you will be when you receive this, but happy birthday, doodlyums! _Oh, they certainly sounded like her parents, alright. _At any rate, our time grows short. Even now we are forced to write this while on the run from evil, dark forces. These forces are called- _here it was obscured by something, a stain, she thought. She sniffed the paper indelicately. Was that…Kikkoman? It was as good as saying 'the grand high poo-bah,' anyway. _Pardon the spill, tweetsies. We're surviving on sweet and sour sauce from the Chinese buffet down the street at the moment. It makes for a messy meal and a messier letter. We just wanted you to know that whatever your adopted parents tell you, it's all true. We never meant to hurt you, darling dearyums! This is for your own good, we did this…_the letter went on for some pages more, but it was mostly rambling nonsense and imaginary dinner menus.

She looked at the other set of papers on her adoption with a growing feeling of anger and betrayal. They stated the case more simply.

_Hermione Jane Granger, orphan, adopted this day, _blah blah blah _to_ blah blah.

There was silence at the table as she stared down at the picture once more.

Her father cleared his throat. Her mother spilled some coffee for something to do. Hermione started to sniffle but bit it back down. No! This was horrible! Terrible! How could someone lie to their child all those years, unless…unless-

"I want another muffin!" she hiccupped, before continuing, "and an explanation. And it had better be a good one!" she threatened. Her father nodded and wiped absently at the coffee her mom had left behind in order to clean out the toaster oven and make way for more muffins.

"Er, well, you see…we're part of wizarding families, your mum and I," her dad began. He looked to his wife for help.

"We're squibs, love. Plain and simple as that. We're squibs from two once powerful pureblood families."

Hermione stared, shocked. She traced a finger over the picture. "And these are my real parents?"

Her parents looked to one another and finally her dad sighed and nodded. "Better tell you the whole story, then. Right. Here we go."

Taking a powerful long swig of his cuppa before beginning, he finally set the drink down and started in.

"Your biological parents, the ones you inherited all your magic from, were your mum's and my brother and sister, respectively. It's always been a bit unheard of for two wizarding families that are friends to both have squibs in the family, so whenever that happened, which wasn't often, they'd try to make an alliance of the two in the hopes that the combined bloodlines would be able to at least reproduce magical offspring. Complete nonsense, of course. We're more like mules than anything else- all but completely sterile, you know." Hermione groaned at this sidetrack and her father continued.

"Anyway, that's how both your mother and I and our siblings got together and married. They- my sister and her brother- were given the task of thrusting us together as often as possible, which is how they grew interested in one another."

"They were disgusting to be around," her mum interjected.

"They were," her father repeated, when Hermione took offense. "Always hanging on one another. Not sensible at all. That's how they got involved with all those dark arts sorts, and it was how they met their end. They tried to go turncoat on the dark lord and his armies, you see."

Hermione gave a small gasp. Whatever she had been expecting from her parents, this was not it. She leapt up, ready to run for it. Her mother slid another plate of muffins in front of her and she gazed at them, lip trembling. In the end, she chose the muffins.

Her dad continued once more.

"So they got themselves killed and asked us to be your guardians and we were more than happy to pretend to be muggles by that point. But it's only fair to tell you that you came from quite the lineage and there was more than one person who wanted to find you once your parents were gone. We had to go to great lengths to hide you and start life anew. Still, you're alive and made it this far, so we did something right," he finished, a little triumphantly.

Hermione nodded, wide eyed, around a muffin. Mmm…muffin. Oh, she could die for that muffin. She looked up from her lazy, well fed state and asked, "So what's my name? What family are we part of? Is it okay if I still call you Mum and Dad? Do I have new guardians? Who else knows I'm, well, me? And do I have any relatives left?"

Ah, well, muffins never could solve curiosity. Only senseless chatter. She stared at her parents and waited patiently as she slather jam onto a muffin. Actually, this was turning out to be a stressful morning. A stressful birthday. Thinking twice, she stuck the whole spoonful of jam directly into her mouth. Ah, yes. That was more like it. She waited for answers and dunked the spoon down into the jam pot once more.

Her parents gazed stiffly at one another and she sensed the topic of family was a sore subject amongst them.

"Some people know, but no one that would hurt you. Yes to the mum and dad bit. And no, you're staying here with us for now. You also have several cousins, darling, and some of the distant relatives on your mother's side are still alive. Her maiden name was Dumbledore and her mother's name- your grandmother, well, it was-," but her father stopped her from saying anymore. Said something about it being too dangerous to tell her that bit. Still, Dumbledore?

"I'm related to the headmaster?" she wondered quietly. How was any of this possible?

Her mum finally replied. "Yes. But only distantly! And our family name was originally Goulifon. The founder of our line was a second player to the founders of Hogwarts. Knew all their business, actually."

"That's generally what second players are good for," Hermione remarked.

"Yes, well. As for your name," her dad continued, "It's a bit ridiculous."

"Let's hear it," she replied, setting a good stolid face.

Her mother laughed.

"It's Rose Penelope Brigitte de Cassis St. Perpetua Siobhan Una St. Vincent Snape Goulifon."

Hermione blanched. "Snape?"

Her parents laughed again. "Is that the only part you have a problem with?" her mum snickered.

"Well…yeah, for right now!"

"Oh, he's another distant cousin, darling," her father reassured her. "You're not related to him in any way that means anything."

"Oh, right. Next thing I know you'll be telling me that my name really means 'moonlight flutterby,' that I have wings, I'm part werewolf, fairy and elf and I'm engaged to Draco Malfoy!" she retorted heatedly.

"Well…" her mother's voice trailed off and Hermione stared at her in horror. This was, oh, this was _awful. _Pureblood, head girl and only sixteen (or twenty-nine, who knows?) in just one morning! Would wonders never cease? No, really. Would they just desist, already? Deciding that she'd had enough muffins for one dreadful morning, she grabbed the papers, letters and picture and waddled from the kitchen to seek solace in her bedroom. This news bore much thought and consideration before she made any rash decisions like…running away or killing herself. The usual suspects. With a suddenly stricken face, her stomach caught up with her mouth and she felt distinctly ill.

_How_ _dignified_, she thought fifteen minutes later as she lay hunched over, worshipping the porcelain god. What a beautiful beginning for the new pureblood heiress to the carefully hidden and traitorous Goulifon name. Those were her final thoughts as she hurled up the other ten muffins she had devoured so earnestly earlier. What could she say? It had been a stressful, dreadful morning and muffins were comfort food.

She vomited again.


	2. In which blah blah blah, heritage!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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_We return to our heroine, who is about to face much worse trials than that of getting ill from overeating muffins..._

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Hermione lay back on her bed, one hand over her aching stomach. It was so bad, she wanted to roll around on the bed, back and forth, moaning. She decided maybe she ought to, for the hell of it. After all, if it felt like she was going to die, then didn't that mean she actually might die? For real?

She began to roll about.

"Oooooh…my tums…oh, it hurts, oooooh…!"

She stopped and waited. Nope, she didn't feel any better or worse and neither of her parents- her adoptive parents- was running up the stairs. Well, so much for that. She sat up and dug around in the drawer of her nightstand. She knew she'd had a couple of antacids in there somewhere…ah ha. She came back up, triumphant, and popped the Rolaids in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. She gagged and opened her mouth, then reached a finger into the back of her mouth to fish out a piece of lint.

Her mother chose that moment to open the door. Hermione acked. Her mum laughed.

"So did you finish reading all the papers, love?"

Hermione nodded glumly and closed her jaw with a click of teeth. "Which one of the things I listed was true?"

"Oh, come now, dearie. Things aren't that bad. Look, did you finish reading your Hogwarts letter?" She held the crumpled paper out to her and smoothed it out.

"Fine, Mum. Fine. But I already read the bits that count," she grumbled and took the letter.

Her mother sat next to her on the bed and Hermione began to scan the letter once more. Classes, schedule, school supplies, books…_Head_ _Girl_…blah blah blah…signed, _Minerva_ _McGonagall and Severus Snape, under the auspices of Albus Dumbledore, as he is a right git and won't take his rheumatoid arthritis medication. _Well, maybe not that list bit; Hermione added that in her head, actually. But it seemed appropriate, considering that he was letting someone else- two someones- double for headmaster. She could only think of a few instances when people did that sort of thing. It usually meant they planned on dying.

As soon as she thought those words, an image popped into her head. It was an image of Dumbledore standing on a tower and Snape menacing a wand- there was a green flash of light…the vision faded and she turned to look at her mum.

Her mum was still sitting there, a bored look on her face, doing her nails. When she realized Hermione was staring at her, she looked up.

"You didn't finish reading," she accused.

The girl jumped a bit. "Uh, er." She scanned the paragraphs in the middle that she'd skipped.

'Most pleased to welcome you to Hogwarts as Head Girl…hope your new status won't be any trouble…Mr. Malfoy-!'

"Mr. Malfoy?" she screeched.

"Keep reading, dear," her mum replied.

'Will be sharing common room…accommodations will be provided during new moon…full moon…while we are proud to have one of your family back at Hogwarts, we are concerned for your safety…blah blah blah…yadda yadda…such and such, relation to Tom Riddle-!'

"Tom Riddle?" she screeched again.

"Is that the only bit you have trouble with, pumpkin mush?" her mother asked, smiling.

Hermione looked down from the letter in her hands back to her mother. "We-ell…not really. What's all this about the new moon and full moon and some such nonsense? And Malfoy? And Riddle?"

Her mother hesitated, then went back to studying her nails. "It's quite simple, really. You are the last living magical relation of Tom Riddle. Er, Voldemort. Um, no, the Dark Lord. You Know Who?" she finally settled on, grinning sheepishly.

"How so?' Hermione demanded, crossing her arms while still holding the offensive letter, effectively giving herself a paper cut on the outside of her elbow. Drat. She couldn't reach it. She tried twisting her arm around so she could get at the stinging injury, but her arm wouldn't twist far enough. Her mother coughed. She looked up.

"Oh, sorry. Please go on."

"Well, since your parents are both dead and your father and I are both squibs, that makes you his last living magical relative. You're related by…oh, let me think. Was it your father's great uncle's step mother? No, that wouldn't be a relative by blood…oh, maybe it was your mother's father's second cousin's brother's roommate from college…no, that doesn't work either."

"Mo-ther!"

"Hmm? Right, sorry, dear. Ah, yes. I know now. It was your mother's mother's father. He was the second son of Riddle's grandfather. So that makes you his…," she paused, counting. "Great grandfather and Riddle is your…," she counted again, "great uncle."

"Blech," said Hermione.

"The headmaster-." She paused and looked at Hermione.

"Headmasters, mother."

"Right, they know all about your situation so they can help you stay out of trouble!"

"And about the other things?" Hermione asked.

"Er, well, eheh. Those can wait- for now, your cousin that I've never mentioned before who lives in America is coming to visit you!"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Mum, you have mentioned her. She's been here, like, five times. You only say that every year because you hope I've forgotten how annoying she is."

"Well there's no need to be ungrateful, darling diddlyums. Maybe she'll help you with your make up and you can actually get a boyfriend at Hogwarts this year!" she finished brightly.

"Mum! I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile this year!"

"Well a little snogging never hurt anyone- except your late parents, of course." She noticed Hermione's eyes well up and her lower lip begin to tremble. It _had _been a very stressful day so far, and it wasn't half finished yet. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear." She swept her into a hug. "Come now, get dressed and we'll go meet your cousin at the airport."

Hermione wiped her eyes of fake tears carefully and closed the door after her mother. She'd always been pretty good at faking it. Gods, if only she could fake it so she didn't have to go see her cousin.

Normally, Hermione was pretty good tempered about people she met, even ones she didn't like, but there was no nice way to describe her American cousin, Tiffany. Tiffany was…annoying. A bitch. And completely slutacious. In fact, she was a no good, dirty, low lying, son of a- Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by her father calling for her to hurry. So without further ado, she took an Irish bath and flew down the stairs. Maybe if she smelled bad enough her cousin- dear old Tiff- would leave her the fuck alone.

As usual, when they reached the airport, they remembered their cousin was strange and always took the train from the airport out to their district, so they had to drive back across bloody England to get to the station. It happened every year. Hermione always knew, but she never reminded her parents because she was always secretly hoping Tiff would decide to go back home when they didn't show up on time. Her parents never reminded one another because they were secretly hoping the same thing. In fact, the entire Granger- or Goulifon- family hated their cousins in America. After all, Tiff was only a distant cousin and a muggle at that, so why bother with the dumb cow? Still, good will towards men, blah blah. Hermione felt it was her duty to do right, most of the time, and so they had her cousin over every now and then. Only before or during momentous occasions, though. It wouldn't do to have her over just for fun. That would be hellish.

As if this day can't get any more hellish, anyhow, thought Hermione.

And suddenly, there on the platform, with a six piece bright green matching luggage set and wearing crocs- Hermione shuddered- was Tiff. Complete with bleach blonde hair. And cut off shorts. And a tan. And a matching mani-pedi. Hermione almost tried to jump out the window to strangle her, but her dad held her back by the collar of her shirt as she slathered over the glass.

"Now, now, darling." Her mother chastised her as Hermione calmed down and sank back into her seat. Her father left the car to help Tiff drag her things into it. A make-up case landed on Hermione's lap and she lost her breath with a whoosh of air. Her mother leaned back and whispered, "We don't want to wake up your murderous tendencies just yet, dear."

Hermione stared at her mother in shock and was silent the rest of the ride home. Man, she really needed to read that letter from Hogwarts more closely! She resolved to check Hogwarts, A History, when she got home.

"Hey, awesome to see ya'll again!" Tiff exclaimed as she crawled in the back seat. "I can't wait to hit all the trendy London stores with ya'll today, Hermione! Hey, you gonna ask your cute friends to come along like ya'll did last time?"

"No," Hermione answered through gritted teeth. Never mind that Harry had said if Hermione ever dragged him along to meet her cousin Tiff again, he would kill her before he killed Voldemort. She snickered to herself. That was only if she didn't kill herself, first.

"Oh, great! A girls' day out then! I love it here," Tiff smiled appreciatively and Hermione hunkered down in her seat, scowling out the window as the other girl- if you could call her that- went on about everything from baked beans to DVDs to catapults. It looked like time to check her favorite book for info would have to come later.

"Hey, Hermione! You know what? I'm gonna give ya'll a makeover! Yeah! Won't that be fun? You have another year at that fancy boarding school with all those cute co-eds, right? "

Hermione nodded stiffly after a prodding from her mother.

"Well, let me go shopping with ya'll and I'll get you fixed up for sure!" Hermione looked out the window at the pedestrians on the street as the pulled up to a stop light. She glared out the window at them, angry that they had their freedom. An old lady with a dog walked past and looked over at her. Hermione put her hand to the glass and mouthed, _save me! _The woman's dog leapt up and began to bark, but Hermione cast it a look of doom and it ran away, tearing its leash from its owner's hand. The old lady took off and with her, Hermione's last chance at freedom. She looked down at her bushy hair as it fell across her shoulders. Goodbye, hair, she thought. Then she held up her fingers. Goodbye, fingernails, she thought.

Hermione spent the rest of the ride making a will in her head and thinking of things to say goodbye to. She was certain that by the end of the day, she would have used the killing curse on herself.

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**AU: Alas, a crap chapter. More later (although not of crap, I hope). If you still want to read this, I am sorry, but thank you anyhow. :)**


	3. In which blah blah blah, makeover!

**Disclaimer: Blah blah, don't own anything, all characters belong to Rowling, blah. **

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_Hermione will soon learn the truth…after she receives her pugly girl makeover. Honestly, what was so hideous about her to begin with? And really, will her mum ever come clean about this horrible secret? Will the sun rise tomorrow? _

_Well, I can't be expected to give everything away at once. That would necessitate not having a plot or a development. Unfortunately, I have both._

Tiff squealed for the fourth time in the space of the last five minutes. Hermione rolled her eyes for the tenth time.

"Don't tell me, I look _faaab_?" She prolonged her 'a,' imitating her cousin. The other girl only laughed and clapped her hands.

"You do, I swear! Come on, let's get this one too." The girl practically snatched the item of clothing off Hermione's torso and shoved her out of the changing room. She was still struggling to get her shirt on.

They were at, thankfully, the final store on Tiff's increasingly longer list. Still, Hermione had insisted they only go to a few stores a day, which had limited both her spending and Tiff's annoying behavior. Or, actually, it had limited the amount of time she had to endure either punishment. For punishment it was, Hermione felt sure. She was trying to determine why Heaven would saddle her first with a multitude of ridiculous family history all in _one day _and follow it up with a visit from her makeover happy cousin. She was in hell, she must be. There was no other explanation.

As she swiped her card for the last time that day, she glanced over at her cousin, who once more had that proprietary air about her.

"Hey, Hermy," Hermione's blood boiled, "do you see that boy over there? He was just checking you out, I _swear_! Do you know him from somewhere, maybe? Oh! He did it again! He is sooo checking you out- oh, gosh, Hermy, you have to introduce us! He's _hot_."

Hermione grabbed her bag off the counter and started for the door. Whoever it was, she certainly didn't want to introduce her demented cousin to them. Especially not if she knew them. That would be the ultimate in humiliation. A hand on her arm and another squeal suddenly stopped her.

"_Granger!_ I'd appreciate it if you'd look at me when I'm talking to you."

Oh, _Merlin_. She'd know that drawl anywhere. What the fuck was Malfoy doing in an H and M? The places that boy got to… She spun about and snatched her arm away.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked in her stiffest, _get the hell away from me or I'll wipe the floor with your ass_, voice. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't let go of her arm. She tried twitching her head to tell him to get lost, please, while she could still deny him the pleasure of meeting her mentally retarded cousin. Honestly, she hated the boy, but Tiff was a travesty she wouldn't wish on anyone.

"Hermy, I see he found you- oh, he's got your hand- are you two _friends_?" she asked, winking at Draco in an exaggerated manner. He jerked back from Tiff's presence like a snake recoils from fire and stared hard at the new girl. He felt Hermione trying to tug her wrist back.

"No, I don't think-," she was replying. He suddenly realized what was happening. And how he could humiliate Granger further.

He bared his teeth at the so called cousin engagingly. "Why yes, we are. But don't tell anyone, please. It's a secret. We're tragic lovers, you see." He smiled at Hermione smugly and she choked on her fury.

"Aw, that's awesome! A real tragedy- like Romeo and Juliet?" When Draco nodded solemnly, Hermione had to keep from strangling him outright. She shook her head. Tiff was asking something about joining them for drinks. Hermione was about to play along and say they couldn't be seen together in public when Draco nodded.

"Gladly! I take whatever moments I can with my beloved." He mooned at Hermione, who gagged. On the way out of the shop, she passed him and caught his sleeve briefly, leaning in.

"You are going to regret this," she hissed at him. He only raised an infuriating eyebrow and waltzed out after her cousin.

Regret it he did. He hadn't realized that her cousin was a muggle, for starters. An _American_ muggle. For some reason he'd thought she was Canadian, he told her in a hiss after they entered the drink shop. As her cousin prattled on and his chance for true humiliation for Granger swiftly turned into humiliation for himself, he finally found an excuse to get up and go to the restroom. He didn't return.

Hermione shrugged apologetically at Tiff, who shrugged in return.

"He wasn't really your friend, I know that. Let me guess- the jerk from school who bullies you and teases you nonstop?"

Hermione gaped at Tiff. "How did you-?"

"Oh, I deal with that all the time. He might be a jerk, but he does like you. The thing to do," she said, relishing her moment of superior intelligence- it was the only one she would get- over Hermione, "is to get all dolled up and make him see what an idiot he's been!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione _whuffed _some hair from her face and paid the bill. "Ah, the makeover you promised, at long last. I'm soooo excited about it, Tiff."

Her cousin narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously, but didn't say anything more until they were back at the house.

* * *

Once home, she immediately began to raid Hermione's closet while Hermione dumped her purchases on her bed. After some moments, she stopped and spoke.

"Hermy, you haven't worn _any _of these, have you?" she accused, holding up a blouse that had been purchased two seasons ago on another of Tiff's visits.

Hermione floundered for words. "That's not true! I did wear some- well, one- but it didn't work like you said it would!"

"Show me."

Hermione rummaged in the back of her wardrobe and finally retrieved the pink top with a tie-back neck and ruching down the front. She had to admit, at the time she'd bought it, the top had suited her perfectly. It had made her look softer and more feminine. Very girly. But for some reason, when she walked down the stairs of her dormitory wearing it for that first trip to Hogsmeade at the start of the year; the boys had only stood and stared at her, mouths agape, before turning away and blushing wildly. She'd immediately run back upstairs and changed tops.

After explaining as much to her cousin, the other girl laughed long and hard.

"But, Hermy," she gasped, "that's the exact reaction you want! I bet they were disappointed as all get out that you changed!" After several more minutes of _harharing_, the two girls managed to remove all the tags in sight and her cousin helped her plan several outfits to wear during the new school year. They were almost finished packing her trunk when they heard her mother's voice calling to them from downstairs and they went to face dinner with much hilarity and good will.

* * *

The next day, before Tiff was scheduled to leave for her train ride and then flight, she made good on her word for Hermione's makeover. She made the girl sit still in the bathroom and produced a make-up bag, hair products and appliances, and even a box of dye. Hermione squirmed a bit when she saw the dye, but her cousin had rather effective ways of tying her up. Where she'd asked Tiff where she learned how to tie knots like that, her cousin had only smiled sweetly and murmured, "Girl Scouts."

By the time Tiff was boarding her train, she could look back on Hermione fondly and wave with a great deal of pride. Standing there on the platform was her once frumpy cousin: bushy hair now tamed into a gleaming mass of red-highlighted chestnut curls; face awash with a healthy glow of bronzer and mineral based powder; eyes lined with a bright brown and lashed curled and separated into a heavy fringe; mouth a pout of pink, sparkling gloss. She was wearing one of the silky sleeveless tank tops with a paisley design they had bought two days ago and the pair of fashionable long shorts in a dark blue pinstripe. Her nails and toes had been done in a matching mani-pedi, and she looked divine standing there in her lime green flips. Divine, but miserable.

"Smile, Hermy!" Tiff called. "The boys will come around- you look faaab!" The wind caught her last words and made off with them as the train started out of the station. Hermione finally perked up a bit and waved, glad the visit was over. Now, maybe, she could start investigating her heritage properly. She hadn't had a moment to herself since her cousin had been over; a fact which she was certain her parents had something to do with. After all, her mother didn't seem too eager for her to find out the truth behind everything…she turned to her parents.

"Well, now that's over, perhaps you can finally explain to me which of my list of improbabilities is true," she said in a most congenial manner.

Her parents glowered at one another.

"This is your fault," her father muttered.

"My fault? She gets all that inquisitiveness from your side of the family, dear."

"Not that temper, though- it's from your side!"

"Need I remind you that wherever she gets it from, it's really our poor, dead siblings' faults?"

Hermione _harrumphed _and stamped her foot. The pavement was not kind to feet wearing support-less shoes like flip-flops. She said as much and began hobbling back to the car. Her parents followed, no longer arguing. Once they were all settled in the car, her father turned around.

"Why don't we go out for lunch and discuss this over a nice meal?"

Hermione perked up even more. _Fine. _Her atrocious, space invading cousin was gone and now she would get a lovely meal.

"Smoked oysters?"

Her parents nodded in agreement after her father remarked, "Well, she gets the expensive tastes from both of us." The car bumped its way from the parking lot towards a little high-end restaurant in old town wizarding London, where Hermione got her wish and even toasted some bubbly with her parents over Tiff's departure.

"Although, honestly, darling, you look wonderful. What did you say she did to your hair again?"

"I dunno, some kind of serum and some highlights out of a box…I really must figure out how to do that with my magic." She waved a hand vaguely. "Anyhow, now what about the business at hand? And the stuff Dumblydore said in his letter?" She covered her mouth as she let out a soft belch and then giggled.

Her parents eyed one another.

"Have some more champagne, dear," her father said, and poured into her half empty glass. Hermione downed the beverage with alacrity. My, she was having fun. Her parents exchanged another set of glances.

"Diddlyums, I'm afraid this may come as a shock…but your other self is betrothed to…a _particular_ young man."

"And you're a were fairy," her mother added.

Hermione grinned and drank some more bubbly. "Anything else I should know?" She really didn't feel so terrible about the news…besides, nothing really beat the fact that she was related to Voldy.

Her parents stared at her uncertainly, but they soon turned back to one another and began discussing something amongst themselves quietly. Hermione took the opportunity to slide under the table. It wasn't until a waiter came up to them with the check and found her gazing up at him from under the table cloth that they noticed she was missing.

With much apologizing and laughter, her father managed to cart her over his shoulder and out of the restaurant. Hermione blinked hazily from her position over her father's shoulder and seemed to see a pair of grey eyes search hers out. The owner of the eyes was staring at her blatantly, mouth agape. She giggled again and promptly passed out in time for her parents to stuff her in the backseat of their car and take her home.


	4. In which blah blah blah, explanation!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

_When last we left our heroine, she was drunk as a skunk and had just received a makeover and some of the worst news of her life. How will she react? How will she cope? Will she turn to a life of drugs and turning tricks with her newfound self confidence or will she embrace the sexy librarian that dwells inside all good girls and become the mistress of an S and M brothel? _

_Only time will tell._

_Then again, she might just hurl and then go to Hogwarts. Who knows? We have to get this show to the school at some point._

_

* * *

_When Hermione awoke later that evening, she had a splitting headache. 

Sitting bolt upright and putting a hand to her head, she reached out her other arm and fumbled about on her nightstand, certain she had at least three…maybe four, aspirin lying about. Eyes heavily lidded, she knocked over several items before following a picture frame and music box to the floor by tumbling off her bed.

She squinted a bit, both hands on her poor, aching head this time. _Ah ha! _she thought. _There you are, _she told one of the aspirins that was hiding beneath the bed skirt. She gulped it down quickly, without water; and was searching for the others, bum in the air and head under the bed, when an awful pounding noise sounded on her door.

The door creaked open and Hermione scooted hastily from her position on the floor, bumping the back of her already poor, _pathetic_, aching head on the bed frame. She squeaked and flopped down onto her stomach.

"Lovey? Are you alright?" came her mother's voice.

Hermione moaned in response and dragged herself the rest of the way from beneath the bed. Turning her self over, she lay on her back on the floor, throwing an arm melodramatically over her eyes.

"Woe is me!" she gurgled. Her mother laughed softly and walked over to her. Hermione heard the clink of a glass being set on the bedside table and then felt her mum place some pills in her open hand.

"Aspirin!" Hermione gasped and sat up too quickly, her head spinning. "Oh, you're a perfect angel, Mum!"

"Of course I am, darling. Now take those and drink all your water. I have some serious things to discuss with you."

Hermione did as she was told and then blearily kicked off her flip flops. Leaning back against the mattress, she squinted up at her mother. The older woman was perched on the edge of her bed.

"Is this about…oh, all that secret like stuff?" She paused and screwed up her face. "The stuff mentioned in my school letter- that I never got to research because Tiff was here?"

"Yes, darling. And I'm terribly sorry to dump this on you now, but it appears you don't handle alcohol well enough to be relaxed first…well, that's neither here nor there." Her mother paused and then placed a hand on her adopted daughter and niece's head, smoothing it over her hair. "The thing is, we'd hoped to keep the truth from you longer…well, we would've had to tell you some of it before you went back this year. But the other thing- it's only because you're to be head girl this year that we have to speed up our plans. In some ways it's fortunate, but the headmaster's choice of head boy is _not _fortunate. It is, in fact, not part of the original agreement."

Hermione squinted again. "Mum, what are you going on about?"

The older woman stopped her hand's ministrations and smiled tentatively. "The head boy, Hermione, darling. Draco Malfoy. Well, you're betrothed. Technically, that is. I'm sure his parents haven't forgotten the betrothal and are doing everything they can to get out of it, since you were presumed dead by most of the wizarding world. Still, since your body was never found…," her voice trailed off and Hermione rubbed her eyes a bit.

"Wait, so not only are we Head Boy and Girl this year, but I'm also engaged to him? And- and you had an arrangement with Dumbledore that if I ever became Head Girl Malfoy would in no way be Head Boy at the same time?" Hermione's head reeled. For a moment, she thought it was from the news about Draco. Then she remembered she was still hung-over.

"Oh, Mum, I think now is not the right time for this news…I feel sick," she mumbled, holding her stomach and head.

Suddenly she got another flash of…well, whatever it was, it wasn't a memory. A blond haired boy was leaning in to kiss her. She pulled away just as another body entered their shared living quarters…

"Hermione? Dovey? Are you alright? Need me to grab the waste bin?"

Hermione looked back up at her mum and shook her head. "No, I'll just be a few minutes," she said, standing up shakily and stumbling to the loo.

She was violently ill all over the porcelain. After washing up, she returned to her room.

"I think I need another aspirin, Mum," she said, smiling weakly. "And by the way, why do I keep getting these weird flashes of…not memory?"

Her mother eyed her carefully for a few moments before speaking. "That's probably the were-fairy," she replied, lifting her hands apologetically.

Hermione's eyes got very wide for another second. "Excuse me again," she murmured, racing for the loo once more- this time in a much less dignified manner.

She was violently ill again.

This time when she returned to her room, her mum had pulled a book out and laid it on her bed. Hermione picked it up.

"For me?" she asked briefly, before cracking it open.

Her mum had barely nodded before Hermione was deep in the literature. The book was titled, _Flight of Fur: Understanding and Releasing Your Inner Were-Fairy_. Hermione snickered at the title a bit before delving in once more.

After several moments she looked back up at the woman sitting across from her. "You've _got _to be kidding me," she muttered.

Her mum shook her head. "I'm afraid not, diddlypoo. It's your heritage. Something to do with having Riddle, Goulifon, and Dumbledore all in your bloodline. It produced some rather odd effects when combined, apparently. Like the were-fairy effect."

"Wait- so do I have wings? And pointy ears? _And _fur?"

"Sort of, darling. You see, when the full moon arrives, you will sprout wings."

Hermione waited. Her mum looked at her even more apologetically than before- almost _pityingly._

"Furry wings," the older woman offered. Hermione blanched.

She rushed to the loo once more.

After her third return, her mum felt her forehead. "Are you sure that's still the wine?" she asked her daughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I'm preggers, Mum," she replied sarcastically.

Her mum gasped. "Who's the father? This could be very important in your current delicate state, you know."

"MUM! I'm not preggers! I was _joking_, Merlin! You are both bats hit crazy, you know that? First this huge revelation and now a second and third huge revelation? How much more is there to know?"

Her mother sighed and patted the bed. "Better sit down, darling diddly. There's more, I'm afraid."

Hermione sat and tried to keep down the rest of her heaving stomach. It wouldn't do to lose all those smoked oysters. This information was decidedly _not _worth losing a lunch's worth of smoked oysters over.

Two more bathroom breaks later- in spite of her best efforts to escape them- she had the whole story. Well, as much of it as she could handle at the moment.

"So let me get this straight and then I'll let you take my temperature, I promise," she stopped her mum.

"Not only will I sprout furry wings at the full moon and lust for the dark arts; at the new moon I will transform into a regular fairy- with elven traits, yes, I got that bit, Mum- and be able to foresee the future. But I won't lust after anything?"

"Right, pumpkin."

"Second, I'm technically betrothed to Draco Malfoy and if he ever sees me in either of my transformations, he'll know who I am. I can't let that happen because I'm Voldy's last living _magical _relative and he needs me for nefarious purposes."

"That's right, but remember-."

"Dumbledore knows everything and has put things in place- in spite of his making me and Malfoy co-heads- to protect me." Hermione eyed her mother uncertainly.

"You've got everything, love! Isn't it wonderful to know the truth?"

Hermione leapt up. "Are you insane? No, it isn't wonderful! I have this huge- _three _huge secrets- hanging over my head and I can't tell a soul, not even my best friends! Not that they're so bloody fabulous anyway, but you know what I mean, Mum!

"I'm going to be completely ostracized if they find out- because they will, since it's Hogwarts and _no _one _ever _keeps a secret at Hogwarts- and then I won't have _any _friends, good _or _bad! And I won't even have a betrothed because he would hate me whether he found out the truth or not! Oh my _gosh, _Mum, no! This is not wonderful _or _okay!"

Her mother sat back from her outburst before standing up and giving her a pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, darling. You'll be fine. Now stop whining and finish packing. We have to take you to the train tomorrow, you know."

Hermione flopped back on her bed as her mum left her to mull things over. As she lay back, she flicked her wand casually, sending things here and there into her trunk. At least she could pack and self pity at the same time. _Ah, the joys of magic._

_

* * *

_

She fidgeted the whole way to the train station the next day: picking at this invisible thread or that inconspicuous wrinkle. Her parents ignored her.

She'd worn one her new outfits and it would have been pointless to tell her she looked lovely in it; it was bugging the hell out of her and quite frankly she was wishing she'd never seen her cousin. She tried desperately to tug down the skirt a little more as she got out of the backseat, hauling her trunk out after her. Her parent's never helped her carry the trunk- no, that was always her job. Even when she'd only been eleven! Blasted good for nothing adoptive- her thoughts were interrupted.

"_Hermione?_" came a squeaky voice. She looked about as she dragged the trunk up the platform. Ah, of course. _Ron._

He was staring at her as if he'd just seen her for the first time- wait, wasn't that what Tiff said she wanted to happen? So she shouldn't kill him for staring at her breasts, right? She sighed and let him hug her a bit longer than he needed to.

"Yes, it's me. Hullo, Ronald," she said in as bored a voice as possible. It was only sort of lucky for her that he was paying no attention whatsoever to her voice. Suddenly another voice disturbed her thoughts.

"_Hermione! _Harry, it's her!" Ginny, her _best _friend, was dragging Harry along behind her. She and Harry weren't dating, although they were very good friends. Ginny sometimes qualified the previous statement with an ominous 'yet,' although she was only teasing him. _It's just to see the look of horror on his face, honest! _the redhead used to say, grinning. _Besides, everyone knows it's really you he's interested in. _

Hermione generally scoffed at Ginny's statements of how much Harry 'lurved' her, but she had to admit that the look on his face that particular morning was not the same as the outward stare of lust Ron was giving her chest. In fact, he looked almost…shy. Hermione decided she liked it.

Then her tummy decided it like muffins and embarrassed her by growling. Very loudly.

"Merlin, mudblood, what did you do? Starve yourself in order to get that thin?"

Hermione nearly turned about and yelled, _You can't call me that anymore, Malfoy! I'm a pureblood!_ But a look from her parents stopped her. When Harry looked upset, she shrugged and grinned.

"Sticks and stones?"

Harry only laughed in a nervous manner. Ron watched Hermione's breasts for any movement. Ginny kneed her brother in the groin.

"Well, it looks like you've got this crowd under control, lovely-ums," her father said, giving her a hug goodbye.

"Don't forget to write or owl us whenever you get the chance- or if you just need to, darling!" her mum reminded her over the whistle of the train.

Hermione waved to them both as she and her friends crowded out a window. In spite of the changes she had gone through in the last two weeks, she really felt fairly good about everything. After all, she'd faced werewolves and destructive willow trees, retarded giants and giant snakes, death eaters and eating muffins. Just because she was now a pureblooded were-fairy who was betrothed to Malfoy and related to the dark lord didn't mean she wasn't still the brightest witch of her age.

She smiled out at her parents and gave one last mighty wave and hurrah.

Then, with one final blast of steam, they were off to start another ordinary year at Hogwarts.

* * *


	5. In which blah blah blah, arrival!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

_And they are on thier way to Hogwarts, finally! How long before the head boy and girl fall madly in lust while maintaining a powerful and mutual hate? How long before Ginny screws Harry's brains out, along with the rest of the male population of Hogwarts? How long before our heroine is thrust back in time and forced into pregnancy, simultaneously? How long will it take for Draco to ferret out Hermione's secret? _

_The authoress notes that last pun was entirely intended. _

* * *

The train ride was as uneventful as it typically was; it had all the necessary components to make them all just happy enough to be going back to school while wishing just a little bit that summer break lasted a few weeks longer.

An incident with an Every Flavor Bean; some mishap with a Weasley Wizard Wheeze; and a run-in with Malfoy completed the journey.

Draco stopped at the door of Hermione and her friends' compartment and stood sneering down at them. His eyes traveled over the group and paused on Hermione's head, flickering uncertainly for the first time in years. She ignored him as her friends heckled him mercilessly.

She'd been bursting to tell Harry and Ron and Ginny the truth about her heritage ever since she'd seen them earlier that day. She knew she wasn't supposed to, but she felt pretty strongly that if she even looked at Draco Malfoy she'd either have to tell him or die. He'd been calling her names and treating her like dirt for ages now and she knew it would kill her not to tell him the truth if he so much as batted an eyelash at her, so she was determined to not start anything with the rotten git. That way she had less chance of him humiliating her and forcing her hand.

"Hello, _mudblood," _he snarled.

Well, crap. There went those good intentions. She burrowed her nose further into her book while Ginny glared at him for her.

"What do you want, ferret?" she tossed off carelessly. "Come to ogle her like everyone else has been? Say, what do you like best about the new Hermione- is it the flimsy material her blouse is made of or the way her skirt hikes up her legs when she sits? Wait, don't tell me, it's the color of her _eyes _and her intelligence at potions that makes her so _attractive_."

Draco floundered about for a reply while Harry and Ron stared at Ginny's brazen description of their friend's appearance.

The boy's face turned a bright pink. "Whatever," he finally replied stiffly, "I only came to gloat to you that I got head boy. I figure I must be the youngest head boy ever at Hogwarts!"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, and the most disgusting," he muttered.

"What was that, Weasel? Couldn't hear you right- I thought you just insulted the new head boy," he menaced, taking a step forward.

Oh, that prick. That did it. Using his authority in mean and underhanded ways already!

She looked up.

"Aren't you supposed to be meeting with McGonagall and the prefects right now?" Hermione asked, standing up herself and putting her book away. Ginny looked up at her strangely, as did the others.

"How do you know my schedule, Granger? Been stalking me? I always knew you liked me more than you let on," Draco smirked in her direction. She stared back coolly.

"No such thing, I promise." She tucked a few stray, silky curls behind her ear and noted as Draco's eyes followed the movement distractedly. "It's just that I have to be there as well."

Ginny clapped. "Oh, Hermione! You didn't tell us you got prefect!"

Draco smirked a little more broadly. "Great. I get to boss you around then, Granger. Looking forward to it." With that, he turned and left.

Before her friends could continue to congratulate her, Hermione held up a hand. "I can't explain right now, but trust me, okay? I really do have to go, but it's not because I'm a prefect. It's because I'm head girl."

Ginny's eyes grew wide and Ron's grew even wider. Harry's face got red. Without further ado, Ginny tugged on Hermione's arm and pulled her back onto the seat.

"The meeting can wait another minute or two. Explain now, please!"

* * *

Draco halted in his course from the doorway of the Golden Quartet's compartment. All the blood, what little there was of it, drained from his face. Had Granger- _mudblood _Hermione Granger- really just said she was head girl? Impossible! Dumbledore must be an imbecile to have placed them together!

However, now that he thought about it, this wasn't the only strange thing he'd noticed about the Granger girl recently. He thought he'd seen her in a wizarding restaurant a few days ago with her _muggle _parents. How was that possible? And now the makeover _and _head girl? It was a strange bunch of items, all put together. He wasn't sure he understood them yet, but if his Slytherin instincts were any good, they told him she was hiding something. Something _big. _And he was going to find out just what that was.

* * *

Hermione listened attentively to her elderly professor as she droned on about rules, regulations and responsibilities. Draco sat and pretended to listen. An assortment of prefects rolled their eyes occasionally and finally the older woman stopped.

"Well, that's it. I hope I can trust you all to make the most of this new and exciting term! We'll be arriving in fifteen minutes. Please go and inform your housemates and the first years. And," she added, with an eye at Hermione and the other girls' revealing clothing, "be sure to put on your robes."

Hermione flushed under her professor's gaze before turning away to leave the compartment. Draco's eyes followed her. Something big was afoot, indeed.

"Oh, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall spoke, "please wait a moment. I have a message for you before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed, however."

Draco stood lazily, casting a glance back at the teacher and student who were now huddled in a corner, discussing something in quiet tones.

Something _huge, _in fact. But what could it be?

* * *

They arrived at the station soon after, without further incident. Unfortunately, their arrival at the castle would not be as quiet.

Hermione stared at Draco while she hissed at her professor. "I have to _what_?"

It seemed he shared her opinion, although he made no move to speak. Instead, he stood there, attempting to look superior as he _always _did. Her professor raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Miss Granger. I had not expected this from you. First your- interesting- choice of clothing and now such defiance! I hope we will not be forced to reconsider giving you the position of head girl. I must admit, I did not support making someone so young the new head, but Dumbledore knows best, I suppose." She stared at Hermione haughtily, or…seemingly haughtily. Hermione could feel the pull towards the dark arts.

Well, she thought she could. What else would explain why she wanted to rip her teacher's head off? Wait…if she was feeling a pull for the dark arts, didn't that mean she was close to that time of the month, towards her change? Then again, hadn't she been experiencing the effects of the new moon just a few days ago? She'd have to consult her book as soon as she got to her room. Drat. Maybe now was not the time to pick fights. Biting hard on her lower lip, she shook her head and kept quiet in what she hoped was an apologetic manner.

In reality, she wanted to say, _'someone so young?' As if the seventh years aren't only one year older. In fact, I'm probably more mature than most of them put together!_ But her silence must have been a satisfactory response, because McGonagall simply sniffed, nodded and walked away, leaving the two teenagers to climb into their carriage.

Draco stepped up without a problem, but Hermione looked backwards at the rows upon rows of carriages, searching for her friends. It was only after she didn't spot them and Draco leaned out again to yank her inside that she turned around.

"Alright, I'm climbing up. Just don't touch me, ferret!" she hissed. He smirked and sat back opposite of her.

"What's wrong, couldn't find your friends?"

When she ignored him, he smirked a little more. Perfect. She hated him, as usual. That would just make his job more fun.

"You know," he began, as the carriage started down the bumpy dirt lane, "I don't think I caught why you're so pissy at the moment."

"Sod off, Malfoy," she replied without turning to face him. The carriage hit a nasty bump in the road, sending her sliding down her seat to the floor. He laughed at her as she scrambled to get back on, tugging her already too short mini down as far as it would go.

"Nice arse, Granger," he responded slyly. She glared at him.

"Nice face, Malfoy. Where'd you get it? Half off at a death eaters convention?" she shot back.

The carriage hit another bump and he continued to laugh. This time when she tried to tug down her skirt, it only left more of her stomach visible. His gaze ate it up and he chided himself. What was he doing staring at this mudblood? She wasn't anything special…no matter how fun, carefree and pretty she'd looked being carried out of that restaurant over her father's shoulder.

Disconcerted, he frowned and looked away. Hermione harrumphed a bit. Fine with her. She wanted the prat to leave her alone. Perhaps now she could enjoy a quiet and smooth ride to the castle.

The carriage hit another bump. Well, crap.

Hermione bounced off her seat and onto Draco's lap. He frowned even more and let out a funny, bird-like kind of screech. Whether it was from pain or surprise, Hermione couldn't tell. Neither did she care.

All she realized was that the minute he touched her, his hands had gone up under her mini and were clasped firmly around her bum. She glared up into his face as she struggled to right herself, only to see his eyes a stormy shade of grey and his cheeks a bright pink. He looked surprised, the bugger.

Maybe she'd let him live, after all.

If he'd kindly remove his hands from her bum, that was. She didn't express herself in quite that manner, however.

"Malfoy! Get your hands off of me, you perverted ferret lover!"

He did, tossing her away from himself like she was a hot potato. She landed on the opposite seat, sprawled across from him, legs spread, robe spread, top hiking its way firmly beneath her breasts. She did the tropical bird impression this time as Draco dusted at himself like he'd touched something dirty. _Ooo_, that jerk!

"Why you- you-!"

Needless to say, he didn't try to reverse her impression that he not enjoyed that encounter one bit. It wouldn't do to let anyone know just how…aroused…by that experience he'd been. Anyhow, just at that moment the carriage pulled to a stop and McGonagall greeted them in time to hear Hermione shouting the worst obscenities she knew at Draco.

Never mind that the worst obscenities she knew were words like _heavenly days _and _I swan_.

Their professor frowned anyway and gestured at them to follow her. Draco exited first, leaving Hermione to clamber down from her perch, hastily buttoning her robes shut, batting at her flyaway hairs.

* * *

They entered the great hall to no small commotion. Of course, wouldn't you know, they just _had _to be introduced to the waiting student populace. _Never_ _mind_ that none of the heads in their previous years had been introduced. Hermione assumed, however, that they felt the need to warn the students this year that their heads were mortal enemies. After all, it was only fair to warn them that anyone caught in the crossfire might end up expelled; or worse, dead.

That would be very bad, indeed. So, as they were introduced to gasps and awes and the general malaise that the start of the year feast induced in upperclassmen and the blind and entirely unjustified enthusiasm it created in the first years, Hermione let her mind wander.

What was going to happen this year? What did those flashes of sight she'd had earlier that week mean? Were they truly portents of things to come? And when she sprouted her wings at the full moon, what would happen to her bras and shirts? She'd really hate to have all of Tiff's hard purchasing go to waste. Especially after how the boys had reacted to her. Well, she was pretty sure she could do without Ron's drooling. And while it was nice that Harry thought she was pretty, she figured he and Ginny would be friends with benefits soon enough. Still, there were other cute guys at school she was interested in, right?

Scanning the crowd for familiar faces, she thought of them. She could see her friends sitting over at the Gryffindor table. Nope, there was really no hope in that arena. She gave a small wave before turning her attention back to the spread before them. Back to the sexy dark prince standing next to her, whose eyes were fixed on some point just in front of her.

_Wait, what? _Oh, no she didn't. She did not just think to herself that Draco _ferret _Malfoy was cute. Wait, not cute. Sexy. She had just called him sexy. In her head.

_Oh, crap. Must be that dark arts thing again. Bugger. Won't this feast ever be over?_

_Merlin_, but she needed a muffin.

And then the worst was past and she was allowed to go sit down with her house. Not to eat muffins, however. That was her dirty little secret and no one in her group of friends was ever going to find out about it. She'd have to sneak to the kitchens later. Despite the fact that sneaking to the kitchens would require knowing how to.

Blast. So her first stop on the way back to the heads' dorm would be the library. Not only to pick up research materials on her…condition, but to check out a book on the kitchens. She could always check _A History_, she supposed, but it wouldn't have as extensive a section on the kitchens as a book that was _only _about the Hogwarts kitchen would have. She grinned in satisfaction and nibbled at a chicken leg daintily.

Ron drooled at her over his roast beef. He grinned back and said something that sounded like, "Mrph mahumph marumouph moumou! Hrmarmph."

She turned to look at Ginny quizzically. Ginny shrugged. "Don't look at me, I'm only related to him. And did you know your robe is unbuttoned at the top?"

Hermione looked down to see a hint of cleavage and bright blue silk tank peeking out. Crap! Was that what Draco had been staring at, the ferret? She glanced up to find a pair of sly grey eyes undressing her with an evil smirk. _Ooo! _

She was about to throw the chicken leg across the room at him when she caught a glare from the headmasters' table. Who was glaring? Snape, McGonagall…not Dumbledore. The man had a shit-eating grin on his face.

Hmph. Maybe she should stop at his office _before _the library. She was related to him, after all. Shouldn't that give her headmaster collection privileges?


	6. In which blah blah blah, translation!

**Disclaimer: Is this even necessary? I don't own Harry Potter- I don't even wish I did, because with great power comes great responsibility and I don't really think I want half the world's population looking to me for guidance in their literature choices.**

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was perched on the back of a sofa in Dumbledore's office, tossing books off a shelf and into a box on the floor. With every _ka-thunk, _the headmaster winced. While he didn't really mind loaning books out of his private collection, he was rather picky about how they were treated.

However…Hermione hadn't been pleased with his selection of head boy and had been more than happy to make her displeasure known.

Fawkes was still nursing his broken tail feathers.

"Er, Hermione," he began, "It's almost time for lights out. Don't you need to speak with the prefects or…something?"

Hermione turned about, hand in mid toss, and smirked. "No, we spoke to them on the train. Now, do you have any books about the Hogwarts kitchens? Blueprints, maps, the like?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard a moment and then smiled. "Ah-ha. One moment!"

He bumbled off into his room and when he returned a few minutes later his arms were full of scrolls.

"Maps," he explained, tucking them carefully into the box. "They're all I have at the moment, I'm afraid. Severus borrowed my book on the kitchens last week and has yet to return it. Will that be all?"

She nodded and promptly tossed the final book in on top of the scrolls. The scrolls were smushed flat with a satisfying _crunch_. She smiled up at her second cousin twice removed. He glared.

"Thanks, Albus," she murmured, gathering the box in her arms. "Bye, Fawkes!"

The phoenix squawked in an undignified manner and Hermione let the door bang behind her on the way out.

Hefting the box in her arms and getting a better grip on it, she quickly made her way to her new dormitory. As she stood at the portrait, wondering how to open it with her hands full, she heard the king in the picture calling to someone on the inside. There was an answering yell and then the portrait swung open.

It was Draco…half naked.

_How convenient, _said the devious half of Hermione's mind. _How revolting, _said the sane half. She ignored both for the time being.

"Lord, put some clothes on, Malfoy," Hermione snorted before pushing her way inside. "Thanks, King, er, Whoever," she added over her shoulder.

"Arthur! I am Arthur, King of the Britons!" came the muffled reply. Malfoy chuckled and followed Hermione into their common room.

"Books already, Granger?" he remarked. "Only the first day and already no life…that's a real shame, that is. And here I'd thought you'd finally gotten cute."

She turned about and dropped the box on his foot. As he was hopping about holding his toes, she crossed her arms and laughed. There was a particular menace to the sound that even she realized wasn't usually present.

"I always was cute, Malfoy. It's not my fault you didn't notice before. What, a girl has to buy some low cut blouses before you'll take notice of her? What next? Only lingerie will catch your eye?"

He flushed and kicked the box out of the way. "For your information, Granger, I noticed you a long time ago! It's just too bad you're a filthy little- erp!"

To Draco, he'd just made the most embarrassing sound in the world. To Hermione, it sounded lovely. She jabbed her wand under his chin a little harder and grinned. Oh, this was it. Secrets be damned. She wasn't going to put up with him any longer.

"You aren't allowed to call me that anymore, Malfoy!" she hissed at him. He narrowed his eyes.

"But it's what you are- murmph!" He tried to back away but found he couldn't and was caught between the wall and her wand.

"No, it's n-," she paused as she realized what she was doing. She couldn't spill the beans yet! He was sure to know what she was talking about and then…then she'd be forced to marry the bugger. Damn! Must be the blasted were-fairy and dark arts thingy making her act all wonky. Oh, wait. No, she was pretty sure she hated Malfoy all the time no matter what time of the month it was. She shrugged and turned away suddenly, pocketing her wand. There was no point in getting expelled _or _married yet. Not when she was the youngest Head Girl ever.

"Never mind, Malfoy," she tossed off. "Just don't call me that to my face anymore, will you? I'm getting rather tired of it as an insult. Perhaps you didn't read enough fairy tales as a child? Not enough make-believe? Because honestly, you're terrible unoriginal when it comes to insults-."

She turned back around to face him only to find him very, very close to her. She shrunk away and reached for her wand again. His eyes caught her movement and he smirked.

"Oh, come off it, Granger. I'm not going to do anything to you…yet. Just reaching for my shirt, there, aren't I?" And to prove his point he did, indeed, reach around her to where his folded shirt was sitting on the back of the couch. Grabbing at it, he let his arm linger past her shoulder longer than necessary before pulling it back and shrugging into the garment.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to bed," he muttered, taking another long look at the girl before him. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright, Granger?" he asked, staring at her.

She nodded slowly and backed away. "Yes, why?"

Draco didn't say anything for a moment, then shrugged and turned towards his room. "Fine. Hope we don't see each other tomorrow." The door closed shut behind him and she was suddenly left alone.

"Yeah?" she called after him. "Well, me too! You can rot in there for all I care!" Then she turned and, tugging the box of books after her, rushed away into her own room. Closing the door, she sat down on the edge of the bed and stared into the mirror above her vanity. She gasped and raised her hands to her cheeks.

Her skin had taken a pale yellow glow and there was a high spot of color upon her cheeks. Her eyes had taken on a dark cast…almost black, and her hair seemed to have grown coarser and kinkier, if possible. She moaned.

Malfoy had seen her looking like _this_? He was bound to know her for certain if she didn't keep a better grasp on her transformations! Oh, who was she kidding? She'd never even gone through a full moon or new moon before. She had no idea what she was doing and now she was not only stuck at school to go through her first time _alone_, but she was also supposed to hide it from everyone she knew!

_When I get home for holidays, if I'm still alive, I think I'll have to have a serious talk with those people who call themselves my parents,_ she grumbled to herself. _That, or kill them outright. _She gasped and felt her blood begin roiling in her veins. _Shit. Must be a full moon after all_, was her last coherent thought. In reality, it was still two days before the full moon, but with it being her first transformation and all, no one had bothered to factor in the additional days of adjustment…then again, if there were such things as days of adjustment and what not. Even the author of _Flight of Fur_ seemed unclear on the issue. Were-fairies _were _pretty rare, after all. It was still considered a theoretical magical creature.

In fact, if she'd bothered to read the whole book properly- if her mum had given it to her in time to read it all properly, that is- she would've discovered that even the book had based all its information on a compilation of other magical creatures…since instances of were-fairies were undocumented. Really, though: part fairy, were-wolf, elf, and seer? _Maybe _a few of those were common in the seventies, but people just didn't _do _LSD anymore.

Yes, well. At any rate, back to the heroine…

* * *

Falling back onto the bed with a mighty sigh, she rolled over and hugged a pillow to her. This was going to be rather painful, it seemed. Crookshanks made himself known at her window, but even as she heard him yowling to be let in, she could feel her blood responding to the scent of another animal. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and let out a long groan as her body began changing, with or without her understanding. Damn. It looked like there wouldn't be any muffins for her tonight.

On the window ledge outside the ill tempered beast stalked back and forth for several long moments while he heard his mistress howling to herself inside. His bright eyes could barely make out her shaking form upon her bed, but it was all the permission he needed to go yowl outside the Malfoy boy's room instead. After all, it was obvious the girl was a danger to be around for the time being…well, she was a danger most of the time, but he really did enjoy her company. More than the Malfoy boy, at any rate. Then again, he'd never really spent much time with him. So perhaps the boy would be fine after all. He sat down on the ledge and watched Malfoy stalking around inside for a full minute before he rolled his eyes back in his head and began howling again.

Draco angrily threw back his bed sheets and stalked over to the window. It was that damned creature of Hermione's. What had happened now, had she thrown him out for shredding one of her sexy new silk tops? He said as much when he opened the window for the beast. Crookshanks deigned to ignore his remark and instead wandered over to Draco's now unoccupied bed and fixed its status to taken, clearly. Draco frowned.

"You can't stay, you bothersome cat," he reprimanded. Crookshanks only blinked twice and then laid his head upon his front paws and stared. Draco felt his eyes begin to water. It was a little known fact and one for which he had been known to kill people for even mentioning, but Draco Malfoy was extremely allergic to cat dander. And Kneazle or not, Crookshanks definitely fell into the category of feline. He didn't stop to bother how he knew Crookshanks was, indeed, part Kneazle. He was a wizard- he just knew some things, right? At any rate, his developing allergy attack distracted him.

The blond boy felt the itch begin in his nose and barely managed to keep from sneezing before he'd grabbed a pillow and cat-hair free blanket and fled the now contaminated bedroom.

He tossed the unoffending articles on the sofa before stalking- Draco was very good at stalking- over to Hermione's door and rapping on the door with his best Gestapo knock. He was rewarded with a deep moaning.

"Mudblood? You in there?" he called. For a moment, he wondered if the zombie apocalypse was finally beginning.

Draco shook his absurdly handsome, blond haired head and smiled to himself. _No, that would be silly. This is Hogwarts…castle of good, pure hearted, old fashioned fun. Not a zombie in sight. _Still, he glanced over his shoulder more than once as he settled down on the couch.

And no matter how high he tugged the blanket over his head, the low moan issuing from the head girl's room sent shivers down his spine. They seemed to call to something deep within him, almost. Then again, that would also be silly. So perhaps he was mistaken about the whole thing. Or perhaps the rumors were true and there was a giant snake roaming through the pipes of the castle, commanding a zombie army. After all, stranger things had happened and what passed for an average day at Hogwarts would chill the bones of Voldemort himself.

Oh, yeah. Except Voldemort had attended Hogwarts, too, so he probably knew all about how creepy the place was.

If he even thought it was creepy. The dark lord probably felt right at home, actually. Draco decided not to think about that dark lord anymore, however, as it was bound to give him even more nightmares than Granger's ceaseless moaning. Not that he had nightmares…that he'd admit to. With that final thought, he murmured a silencing spell on the couch, curled up and went to sleep.

Crookshanks followed his lead soon after and a loud purring could be heard from within his room.

Hermione, however, did not fall asleep. She passed out from the pain early on and woke again just after midnight.

And she was craving muffins _desperately_. Possibly with a rack of lamb. Rare.

Rolling from her bed, she proceeded to glide from her room, out the portrait- with a mystified and frightened Arthur staring after her- and down the darkened halls of Hogwarts. Perhaps if she'd bothered to look in a mirror before leaving, she would have understood his confusion.

For one, she was hovering about a foot above the ground, due to the rapid fluttering of her brand new pair of wings- which had, by the way, irreparably damaged her new silk tank top. Arthur, King of the Britons, had never been so shocked to see skin in his entire life.

For another, she shed a fine layer of tiny, coarse hairs behind her.

If she'd been bothering to pay any attention to the things around her instead of only listening to her stomach, she'd have noticed a very interested- albeit, also frightened- Mrs. Norris following behind her carefully, sniffing delicately at the new and unusual breed of hair she was leaving in her wake.

* * *

**AN: So, I had a little trouble getting back into the swing of total parody, but there's still a few humorous bits. Also, I'm pretty sure Snape has rounds tonight, so the next installment should be a laugh a minute.**


	7. In Which blah blah blah, Snape!

_**I own no part of Harry Potter ever and will never make money off of this crap! :)**

* * *

_

_Where was I? Ah yes, our heroine is off on an adventurous search for food. Will Snape impregnate her on accident? Will Malfoy unrealistically fall in love with Hermione and Harry and propose a threesome? Will pigs fly?_

* * *

Hermione floated down the hall in a stupor, her hunger for muffins inducing horrid abdominal pain. Her stomach felt like it wanted to leap from her chest cavity and bounce away, devouring anything in its path. She giggled a little at the thought and heard a confused meow behind her. She turned her head, found her view blocked by her new set of furry wings, and began screaming.

Mrs. Norris answered her shrieking with steady yowling and it didn't take long for the teacher on duty to come rushing around a corner and into the middle of the mess of fur, curls and hysteria.

Unfortunately, the teacher on duty being Severus Snape, it was more like he sauntered around the corner and stopped short when he saw what was happening. His jaw dropped open, the blood drained from his face and he was, for once, at a complete loss for words.

He finally managed to splutter something appropriate- well, to his mind it came out intelligibly. To Hermione and Mrs. Norris, it came out sounding more like, "Merlin's Balls!"

The girl managed to stop shrieking and Mrs. Norris finally turned and ran the other way, still yowling. Hermione cast about in her hazy mind for a plausible explanation for a full minute before she realized her teacher was still staring strangely at her, his face a bright puce color. She knew, logically, that unless she stunned him and ran for it that she would never get out of some explanation of her new appendages; but it didn't strike her until the hair on other parts of her body began standing on end that _perhaps_ he was less concerned with the wings and more concerned about her apparel…or lack of it. Yes, when her wings had burst forth earlier that evening in their first appearance, they had disposed of any semblance of shirt she may have been wearing.

She felt her own face turn a bright red, attempted to cover her exposed skin with her arms and when that failed, drew her wings about herself. Unfortunately, bringing her wings to cover herself meant they stopped fluttering, which meant she stopped floating, which ended with her crashing to the floor of the hallway in a tangle of curls and fur and tattered blouse.

Snape hesitated, unsure whether he should offer her a hand up or if it would be inappropriate to be that close to an underage witch who was barely dressed. Minerva would probably crucify him if she saw them right then. Oh, shit. Minerva! He looked off down the darkened hallway after Mrs. Norris and cursed again. The damned cat would bring all of Hogwarts down on them if he didn't act swiftly. Not that any of those students should be out of their beds at this hour anyhow, but that never seemed to deter the student body in the past. If there was something dangerous to see, whether it was six in the morning or eleven at night, everyone would inevitably be up and dressed and on a collision course with every other person, heading directly to the scene of excitement.

Must be one of those quirks with the staircases, he supposed. Or perhaps it was that dratted portrait system. Oh, how he hated that portrait system.

At any rate, he made up his mind to avoid being caught in a compromising position and removed his robe, throwing it over the poor girl who was know huddled on the ground, making obscene snuffling noises.

"Are you _crying_, Miss Granger?" he managed to ask, now that he no longer had to see her.

"No, I'm trying to track my way to the kitchens. A good muffin would do me nicely at the moment," came the muffled reply.

His face turned an even uglier shade of puce, if it was possible, and he stifled another swear. "This is hardly the hour to be searching for food, Miss Granger. Besides, you aren't dressed for such an occasion. I must object and insist you return to your dorm immediately."

"I can't!" she wailed. "I'm so _hungry_! And Malfoy is sleeping on the couch for some reason- I can't risk him seeing me like this!"

"Please, Miss Granger! Be quiet!" The snuffling noises ceased and he frowned at the mass before him. "Well, I suppose I could get you something to eat, if you are going to insist on this muffin obsession of yours…but you must return to your dorm. Would it help if I cast an invisibility spell for you?"

"Why are you being so…" _nice _was hardly the word. She cast about for a better term and came up with _obliging_. She heard another snort on the other side of the cloak.

"I'm not, Miss Granger; I'm saving myself a lawsuit from your damnable muggle parents. Now what on earth potion have you gotten into that's given you furry wings? Is it some muggle drug interacting with your magic?"

Hermione groaned and realized that they weren't going to get anywhere unless she did something about her state of undress and the transformation. Well…perhaps a memory charm on a professor in self defense would do…and he was the one who had brought up her wings…and it was dark in the hallway…

Thinking very, very hard to what her book on the transformation had told her, she concentrated on slowly putting the wings away. They were really only a physical manifestation of magic, so if she could turn them back into potential magic, they could be stored easily inside her…or in an aura about her…or some such nonsense. Snape chose that moment to poke at her and she groaned.

"What?"

"Er, could you get up and leave, now? I can't have you being seen and you made such a racket earlier, what with those- where did those wings come from, again? You never answered my question."

She peeked out from under the cloak and arranged her face in a scared frown. "What wings? Why do you keep going on about wings? Why, why- you old pervert!" she suddenly screamed as loud as she could, and leapt from beneath his cloak, casting a charm at him as she did so.

Not surprisingly, she heard an appalled gasp behind her as Snape's body tumbled to the floor, befuddled indefinitely and going on in robotic tones about muffins and cat hair.

"Miss Granger!" came Professor McGonagall's horrified whisper. "What on earth has been happening here?"

Hermione rearranged her face into an even more frightened grimace and turned about, clasping her hands about her still naked chest- this time, her back blessedly wing-free.

"Well- I suppose I ought to tell you- but I don't want to get Professor Snape in trouble, Professor, really, I don't- he would be so angry and probably fail me in _every_ course!" she wailed, before throwing herself forward into the other witch's arms.

* * *

And that was how Professor Severus Snape, Potions and DADA teacher, former Death Eater and member of The Order of the Phoenix, _and _co-Headmaster of Hogwarts (standing for Albus Dumbledore, arthritic and psychotic wizard) was expelled from all his positions and fired from Hogwarts. Permanently.

It would have been quite the scandal if anyone actually cared about Professor Snape or he had been a better looking man. But, as neither was true, the papers ran exactly three lines on it and that was that.

Hermione thought upon the night's events much later and realized that she probably shouldn't have gotten him fired- she hadn't meant to do that, actually. On the other hand, he had always been a bit of a git and there was nothing he could teach her that she, being brilliant in all ways, couldn't teach herself. So really, she shouldn't let it bother her too much. And she didn't. She had some muffins instead and felt much better about the whole thing.


	8. In which blah blah blah, Lucius!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make no money off this fic. But I do make a few laughs, I hope.**

**AN: Whew, it's been a while with this one, hasn't it? Still, I never promised it was anything other than a way for me to let off steam from all the drama I'm otherwise writing, so... In other words, I never promised to update it regularly. Nyah. Enjoy!**

* * *

_When we last left our intrepid heroine, she had just gotten the Potions and DADA master fired. Fish. And if you get that reference,you are bloody brilliant. So, alas, alack, here we follow our woefully unemployed dearest darlingest Snape as he discoveres Lucius' plans for total world domination (or at the very least, total Granger domination) and see how our beautiful and made-over were-fairy reacts to the news. Will she weep and gnash her teeth? Will she eat copious amounts of muffins? Will Draco finally shag her senseless? Will Crookshanks develop a voice? Who knows? Who gives a fuck?_

_Without further ado, or much ado about anything, I present our next installment of the Adventures of Hermione Finn-Sawyer-Snape-Goulifon-Riddle-Dumbledore the Fifteenth. Or some such shit._

_Motorbike._

* * *

Severus eyed Lucius over the rim of his wine glass dolefully. He wasn't sure when he and Lucius had become such great drinking buddies, but apparently it happened often. He took another gulp of the dark liquid and silently hoped it would burn a hole in his throat, making him promptly bleed out and die. Anything would be preferable to what his favorite drinking buddy (which was odd, really, because Severus didn't drink that often, did he?), dark wizard mentor (another fact Severus had been unaware of, but one which Lucius assured him everyone else thought so it_ must _be true), and former house mate (also odd, because Severus didn't think they'd even been at Hogwarts at the same time) was sitting there telling him.

Lucius was replacing him as Potions master. Never mind how he'd gotten out of Azkaban- a very good lawyer, he'd claimed, the muggle kind, someone by the name of Perry Mason- but now this Death Eater (former Death Eater, Lucius corrected him several times) was going to be teaching at Hogwarts? In his old classroom? Living in his old quarters?

"Whatever for?" he'd asked Lucius.

"Why the fuck not?" Lucius had replied. (He'd also developed a penchant for muggle swears, apparently, but that made about as much sense as anything else at the moment and the wine was rather good, so Severus tried not to think about it too much.)

"Lucius, you _have_ to get me back in there. I don't have a life without my job at Hogwarts."

"Nonsense, Severus! You were expelled! For good reason, I might add- I certainly don't blame you for trying to get into that muggle witch's pants, you know."

At that, Severus nearly dropped his glass (only nearly- the wine was _good_) and stared at Lucius, aghast.

And that was how Severus Snape discovered that Lucius Malfoy had, indeed, divorced his beloved wife with whom he'd never had any trouble and had always been mad in love with; renounced all his purist, muggle-hating ways and left the service of a dark lord he cowered in fear of; and taken up a position utterly beneath him, all in order to win the affections of a muggle witch he'd previously done his best to mock, torment and destroy (when he'd deigned to notice her, that was). Severus was gobsmacked.

And then he recovered. "I say," he began and wondered when he'd turned into Alistair from _As Time Goes By_, "does that mean Narcissa is free?"

Lucius waved a hand nonchalantly. "Of course. But she's living in Italy. I'm not sure why, I just know that's where she suddenly wanted to go. Tried to take me with her, but what the fuck do I want with Italy? I'm a Malfoy. My name is French in origin. Makes no bloody sense to me."

Severus eyed him some more, unsure if he should point out that none of this made sense anymore. But he suddenly found it didn't matter, as he realized he'd been secretly harboring a crush on Narcissa for years. That Lily business? Utter nonsense. She was just the only girl who ever spoke to him. Narcissa, on the other hand…now there was a witch he could sink his teeth into. Plus, she was still breathing.

"You know," said Severus, "I think I'll go to Italy, too. Good luck with trying to get in the pants of an underage muggle witch." He stopped short and looked at Lucius nervously. "I just had the strangest feeling, actually."

"What's that?" Lucius asked mildly, smiling as he thought of Hermione.

"I rather think you might have to battle half of the school for her hand."

"Ah, well. That will be simple, won't it?"

"Why's that?"

"Severus, my old, dearest and best friend," Lucius began, "I _am_ a former Death Eater."

Severus nearly choked on his wine. "Of course," he replied. "Why _ever_ didn't I think of that?"

* * *

Hermione eyed the stash of muffins she'd successfully stolen from the kitchens. They were piled atop her bed and Crookshanks was sitting on her dresser, anxiously watching her watch them. He wasn't sure what his mistress wanted with so many muffins, but he had a feeling it was nothing good.

"Mrow?" he finally said and she turned to look at him. Her coloring was back to normal and the wings were gone, but her eyes still had a strange tint to them. He thought that was okay, as long as she didn't go scaring the shit out of him like she had before.

"No, you can't have any," she told him primly before turning back to them. Then she began to stack them into a nearby box she had transfigured into a small freezer. If she wanted them to keep, they'd have to stay cool. And who knew when she'd need a store of muffins? It would do her no good at all to have a sudden craving when there were none to be had.

Besides, as she'd discovered upon delving into that blasted book some more, things that she had unhealthy obsessions for in normal life were the key to keeping her grounded when she went through her changes. Of course, that was all purely theoretical anyway, as she was the only documented case of were-fairy so far, but the logic made sense. And anyway, she wasn't about to turn down the chance to have a muffin whenever she bloody well pleased.

There was a tentative knock on her door and she quickly finished putting the muffins away before opening it. It was Malfoy. He'd been more tolerable, for some reason, since her change the other night- you'd think he'd been frightened out of his wits by something- but that didn't mean she liked him any better.

"Hello, Insufferable Git," she said, smiling.

"Good Morning to you, too," he replied. Crookshanks meowed rather loudly and jumped from the dresser to prowl around Draco's feet.

She watched their interaction with surprise as Draco knelt to pet the mangy cat. And lord, it was a mangy beast. She wondered, not for the first time, why she never took him to the vet or a groomer. Shouldn't she take better care of her pet? No, not Crookshanks- he always looked like he'd been wandering around in the woods the better part of a month, no matter what she did. Occasionally she sprayed him with some febreeze and that seemed to help, but it was the best she could do.

"He seems to like you," she said, as if her cat's liking him Meant Something. He looked up at her and winked and immediately wondered why he had. It didn't stop him from flirting shamelessly, however.

"Of course, Granger," he replied agreeably. "Clearly, we are Meant To Be."

She huffed and crossed her arms and tried to tell herself she didn't suddenly have the urge to snog him senseless. Perhaps an increased libido was a side effect of the change as well. Resolving to look it up later, she grabbed her book sack and shooed him out of her doorway.

"Well go on, then. We have to get to class."

"Ah, yes," he said, swinging his own bag over his shoulder. "Potions. Wonder what it will be like without Snape."

"Why are you being so…nice to me?" she asked and he turned to look at her.

"I wasn't aware making small talk was the same thing as being nice," he responded, smirking.

"Coming from you, it is."

He pondered this a moment as he held open the door for her. "I suppose you're right. Goodness, was I really that much of a git before?"

"You were a right bastard," she confirmed.

"I wonder why?" he said. "I mean, you're right. I practically had no personality, did I? My entire world revolved around calling you and your friends names. Well, you better enjoy this while it lasts. You never know when I'll start being a bastard again. Perhaps I have a personality disorder."

"Think about it later, Malfoy," she said, shaking her head. "We have class."

He sneered, thought better of it, and pasted a smile on his face as he followed her down to the dungeons.

* * *

"Mione!" gurgled Ron stupidly as he tried not to stare at Hermione's chest.

"Hey, do you think it's alright if we call you something else?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed and took her usual seat at the front of the class, between her two best male friends. She sighed again and looked about the classroom. Where was Ginny? Oh, right, she was a year behind them. She wouldn't be in the same class- she spotted a familiar head of red hair and gasped in surprise.

"Ginny?"

The red-haired witch turned and waved at her. She was sitting next to Luna and Neville (who was flushed a bright pink and was slowly shredding his parchment and stuffing it in his ears as he drooled). Hermione shook her head and waved back. She must be getting barmy. How could she forget that her other two female friends were so brilliant they got to take classes a year ahead of their own? Besides, they were her friends, so _of course_ they were in the same class. How else would they know _everything_ that went on outside of their own year?

Hermione stood up and wandered over to them. "Ginny," she said as she patiently removed the parchment from Neville's ears and pet him on the head, "why on earth is Ron calling me Mione? And what does Harry mean, he wants to call me something else?"

"Oh, they decided that your name isn't sexy enough for your new look. I think Harry wants to call you Maya, or Claire, or something. Alejandro?" she asked hopefully.

"It was Jessica," Luna added serenely, before blinking a few times and frowning. "Or was it Niki?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now you're just listing characters from _Heroes_," she pouted. "And that show hasn't even debuted yet!"

"It hasn't?" Ginny asked. "Why do you know about it, then?"

"Time-Turner," Hermione replied.

"Ah," said Ginny.

"Maybe it was Tracy," Luna said dreamily.

"I'm going back to my seat," Hermione responded. "Don't let Neville try and eat his cauldron again, would you?"

Ginny and Luna nodded and Hermione went back to her spot just as the door of the classroom opened.

There was an audible gasp from the rest of the class and Hermione was pretty sure Draco let out a strangled groan. She turned in her seat to look and found the pale grey eyes of one former Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, staring back at her. He was smiling. She wrinkled her nose and turned back around. Holy shit. This was what she'd brought on herself by getting Snape fired? Lucius- Kill the Muggles- Malfoy? Holy _shit_.

* * *

Actually, Potions with Lucius wasn't that bad, all things considered. He did stare at her an awful lot and he made several lewd, innuendo laden remarks throughout the period, but he wasn't a terrible teacher. As long as she didn't catch him trying to surreptitiously sniff her hair too much. That really was just creepy. And it only encouraged Draco to do the same thing while Harry and Ron fought one another over who would get to throw the first punch at him.

Hermione sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Hey, Maya," Harry said, "have you finished your potion yet?"

She looked down at her cauldron and wafted some of the steam under her nose. "Yes," she replied. "I have no idea what color it's supposed to be or what potion we're actually brewing, but I seem to have completed it, as usual."

"Ah, Hermione- may I call you Hermione, Miss Granger?" Lucius uttered over her shoulder.

Hermione nodded and sighed _again_. (Although whether it was because she was frustrated or overwhelmed by Lucius' wonderfully delicious man-smell, she wasn't sure.) "You may. It's better than whatever these two are calling me," she said, gesturing at Harry and Ron.

Ron pouted. "But I thought you said it was okay if I called you Hiro."

"That's not even a girl's name!" Hermione groaned.

"Shakespeare thought so," Harry pointed out.

"This is not a Shakespearean comedy, though, is it, Mister Potter?" Lucius asked. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he announced sternly.

"Professor Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry, my dear. Twenty points to Gryffindor, just for how lovely Hermione is. And five for Potter even knowing the classics when it's perfectly clear none of you have studied them, since Hogwarts doesn't have an arts program." He smiled down at Hermione, who wrinkled her nose again. "Carry on, my dear," he said, patting her on her curly, frizzy head and trying not to dig his fingers through her curls on "accident."

Hermione watched him go, thoroughly confused and perhaps a little- just an eensy, weensy bit- besotted. He was ridiculously good looking, if one went in for the romance novel types.

"Sylar!" Luna announced from the other side of the class. "That's what they wanted to call you."

"Damn it, that's not my name anymore!" came an annoyed voice from elsewhere in the class. Hermione turned to look and saw a dark-haired young man wearing glasses look up from his cauldron. "I told the registrar, it's _Gabriel_," he said insistently.

"Whatever, just stay away from Jessica!" Harry shouted at him. The young man blinked owlishly and shook his head before turning back to his work.

Hermione frowned. She really did need to speak to Dumbledore about those missing Time-Turners.

She turned to look for Ginny and ask if she wanted to come with her just in time to see Neville shove his wand down his pants and Ginny struggle with him for the ingredient list before he added it to the abused waistline of his slacks. She shook her head. Perhaps she would just have to take care of things herself, as always.

Lucius swept her way again as she bottled up some of the unknown potion she had brewed perfectly and smiled down at her.

"Brilliant, my dear. Would you like to have a meeting with me to discuss your future with me? In Potions," he added innocently.

She was aware of someone joining her and looked over to see Draco also handing his father a bottle.

"Dad," he said, smiling, "stop hitting on the Head Girl. She's underage."

"Actually, that's not quite true," she admitted. "Time-Turner, you know."

Draco glared at her. "I'm trying to save your arse," he hissed.

"Come now, son, surely you don't think I-"

"You're my father. I've been hitting on her, myself. Ergo, it makes sense you would, too, since we are alike in every way. _Duh,_" he added viciously."What the fuck are you doing at Hogwarts anyway? Where's Mother?"

"We are divorced."

Hermione gasped. "But, aren't wizard marriages totally unbreakable?"

"Nonsense," replied Lucius. "Where on earth did you get that idea?"

"I have no idea, now that you mention it," she responded. She glanced from father to son, who were still glaring mildly at one another. She sighed. (She was clearly going to have to get used to doing that a lot.) "I'm leaving now. See you in our awkwardly shared quarters, Draco," she said. "And be careful when you come in- I might be in the bath, even though this was just the first class of the day and I'm hardly dirty."

Draco grinned at her. "I'll be extra careful in that case, Granger," he replied, shoving his father aside as he gave her a solid once over. Lucius rolled his eyes, but shoved his son right back before taking ten points from Slytherin and setting off a shouting match between father and son.

Hermione decided to ignore them both as she made her way out of the classroom. She wasn't sure she would stay sane, otherwise. Sure, Lucius didn't know that she was really Rose-Abigail-Snape-Riddle-Whatsherface, his son's long lost fiancée, but that didn't stop her brain from hurting at the ludicrousness of the situation. It was high time for one of those emergency muffins. In fact, at this rate she might need to just keep one on her at all times. It was quite possibly the only way she would make it through Potions the rest of the year. Oh, _Merlin._ Potions, the rest of the year.

Holy shit.

* * *

**AN: HAHAHAHA. Ha. I rather liked this chapter, myself. I was inspired. **


	9. In which blah blah blah, forced plot!

**Don't own it.**

* * *

_When we last left our heroine, she struggled with her newfound powers and the discovery of her new admirer, none other than the nasty old wizard Lucius Malfoy, father of head boy and fellow admirer, Draco Malfoy! What zany plot twists will thrust them together now? Will there be a threesome? Will worms grow ears? Will a bizarre and unappreciated author's note appear in the middle of the story? Will Hagrid ever be good for something? Will this fic finally earn an M rating? Who knows!_

* * *

Hermione stared at Ron, perplexed. "What was that?" she asked.

"Haragdfid. Emd werls ncvekj lkgnwkjfaa!" Ron repeated for the third time while staring openly at her breasts.

Hermione turned to Ginny, frowning. Ginny shrugged. "Don't ask me," she said around a gulp of pumpkin juice. "He gets more intelligible the more he says."

Hermione considered this and looked at Ron again. He was drooling. It was true, that as the semester progressed he'd become almost entirely incomprehensible and belligerent. She cringed when he opened his mouth again.

"I HATE MALFOY!" he announced in a very loud voice.

And that was the extent of his sense, it seemed. She wondered if he would go back to normal once Quidditch was over. It seemed doubtful. It was almost as though he was becoming a mere caricature of himself- although she found it difficult to believe that he'd ever stared at breasts quite this much before. Perhaps someone had slipped him something?

"Harry?" she turned to ask the boy at her side. Harry was staring openly at Ginny with undisguised longing on his face while at the same time trying to feel up Hermione's legs. She swatted his hand away and he focused on her.

"What? Sorry," he said. "I guess I should tell you that I'm mad about Ginny," he confessed, although the red-haired witch could obviously hear him.

"Then why were you feeling me up?" she said, astounded. Not that she wanted him to feel her up. Merlin, it was bad enough with Draco finding excuses to open the door of their shared bathroom while she was in the tub; and his father finding excuses to sniff her hair in the middle of Potions.

Harry flushed. "Er- dunno. You're awfully pretty, Hermione. I noticed it fourth year, you know, at the Yule Ball. And your smile is much dreamier now that you've shrunk your teeth. And we share a muggle heritage and things will never work out for you and Ron- you fight all the time. We're clearly Meant To Be."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What? You just said you're mad about Ginny!"

"That was a plot device." He stopped and blinked a few times, then focused on her again. "Wait- did I just list all the reasons we should be together again?"

"Yes," Ginny said around Hermione's shoulder. "But if we're going into reasons why people should be together, then you and I make as much sense as anyone else. Or even me and Hermione, for that matter. Hermione and I get along famously," she said, waggling her brows.

Hermione threw her hands in the air and left the Great Hall, determined not take part in the idiocy. She wondered vaguely if there even was a plot left at this point. Breakfast had become a farce of improbabilities.

* * *

At lunch, there was an announcement from the Headmaster(s). Apparently, in attempting to fix the plumbing, some residual unclogging magic had made its way through the pipes and into the water supply, thereby acting as an inhibitor-blocking agent in the students' and teachers' minds. Many apologies from the management, but they hoped in a few days it would wear off. Hermione snorted into her water, daring to drink it anyway. If it hadn't worn off after several weeks of such behavior, it wasn't likely to wear off anytime soon, either.

"So, basically we're all acting like we've gotten right pissed," mused Ginny.

Hermione flicked her perfectly coifed curls **(it's important to note that the makeover from Tiff had not worn off yet, mainly because Tiff was, unbeknownst to Hermione and her parents, actually a witch as well! Ta-da! Bet you louts didn't see that coming! HAHAHA. LOLZORZ!!!!1111!!!!!)** over her shoulder and smirked.

**(Oh, and Tiff is NOT a Mary-sue and if you think she is then you're just stupid and don't know anything about Harry Potter AT ALL. She's my original character and I love her and she's totally going to come to Hogwarts and SHAKE THINGS UP, since these kids don't see nearly enough action even though it's vulgar and disgusting that they would be shagging in broom closets. I mean, get a real hotel, right? Or at least do it in the back of their parents' cars! OH WAIT. THEY DON'T HAVE CARS. MY BAD.)** End obnoxious author note. **(Check.)**

**(Yes, I think I'm very clever, you bints.)**

"Well, if we're going to be acting like it anyway, why not get really pissed?" Harry suggested over the sound of Ron shoveling food in his mouth and then dribbling it all over the table.

"Yeah, we could have a party!" Ginny responded. "In the common room!"

"Ginny, you know I'd have to report you guys if-"

"Well, why not have it in _your _common room, then, since it's okay for you to have parties since it's private?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose, not sure if she followed that logic. Since when did having a private set of rooms mean it was okay to drink themselves to death? And besides, she was going through her revelations with this were-fairy business…she didn't need to add to the drama. Not really.

Okay, maybe just a little. She sighed.

"Fine."

Ginny's jaw dropped open. "You'll let us-"

"Yes, okay! I said fine already!" Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms. Maybe this was that ridiculous plumbing magic's affect on her. Maybe it was the dark side of her desiring to see some discontent. That would make as much sense as anything. She put her head in her hands, suddenly wishing for a muffin. A good muffin would do her right. She pushed away from the table. "Excuse me," she told her friends.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, er- I need to find Malfoy, make sure he's alright with this party."

"I HATE MALFOY," Ron said.

"Yes, we know, mate," replied Harry as he stroked Ginny's hair a bit. Ginny preened and accidentally sent off one of her famous Bat-Bogey hexes in Dean Thomas' direction. Hermione watched in consternation as the boy raced from the great hall, crying.

"I would report you for that, but I hear he was an abusive prat who practically assaulted you to get you to date him," she told the other witch. Ginny smiled. Ron drooled. Harry preened this time, which was unusual. Hermione sniffed haughtily and made her way from the hall. Time for muffins, most definitely.

* * *

She ran into Professor Malfoy in the hallway on the way to her chambers and he leered down at her, as was his custom. She smiled up at him a bit unsteadily.

"Uh, good afternoon, professor," she murmured. "I'm off to shag your son- er! I mean eat muffins! I'm off to- oh, bugger!" she dashed around him and felt him snag her robes.

"Not so fast, my little brilliant underage-but-maybe-not-because-of-the-time-turner witch," Lucius said as smoothly as it was possible for him to say such a mouthful. Even the great and charming Malfoy patriarch stumbled a bit every now and then. Not that then was one of those times. Hermione barely registered that he had literally swept her off her feet before he'd pulled her up into his arms like the cover of one of her romance novels. She meeped. He smiled down at her fondly. "I can see I still frighten you, my little dove. Well, have no fear. I shall not ravish you to within an inch of your life yet. Now be good and don't sleep with my son unless I'm around. Go on, then," he murmured, swatting her bum as he set her back on her feet. She wrinkled her nose and raised her brows (being unable to defend herself from his advances, she was so taken by him) and scurried away from him as quickly as possible.

She was apprehended at another corner by Theodore Nott, who was twiddling his thumbs and glaring up at her murderously.

"For no apparent reason I think you're the only girl in the school suited to my brains and taste. Once we're of age I'm going to ask you to marry me," he told her sullenly.

"I don't even know you!" she exclaimed.

"We have several classes together," he pointed out. He proceeded to mumble the names of them all. Hermione nodded like she understood him. She was feeling very confused, indeed.

"But we've still never spoken," she said reasonably.

"We're speaking now," he replied. Then he drifted away like a shadow. Or a nightmare. Or something Slytherin-ish. Hermione shuddered and kept moving.

She was assaulted by Blaise Zabini next, who claimed he'd just come from shagging Pansy into a wall but seemed to think this would impress her; followed by Zacharias Smith, Ernie MacMillan, Seamus, Cormac, Colin, and finally Crabbe before she managed to slam the portrait of Arthur, King of the Britons, in Goyle's face. It was practically a relief to fall into Draco's waiting arms and let him kiss her senseless.

Well…practically.

It was better than the offer Colin had made. She shuddered thinking of it and Draco drew her closer. She hadn't even realized Colin knew some of those words. With a sigh and a slight return of her senses, she pushed Draco away.

"Darling, I thought you'd finally agreed to my advances!"

"No, no," she replied, swatting his hands away from her robe closures. "That was just the lack of muffins talking. Oh, by the way," she went on, as if she hadn't just snogged him quite willingly, "we're having a party tonight. Is that okay?"

"You and your half-breeds?"

"Harry, Ron, Ginny, myself and maybe some others," she replied evenly.

Draco seemed to consider this seriously. "Uh, no," he finally said. "That sounds wretched."

"We'll share," she pleaded. "Please, my friends have gone completely mental. I have no idea what's wrong with them. And being in here, getting drunk with them, is actually safer than being out there," she said, lowering her voice and directing a grim look at the portrait.

"Why? What's going on out there?" Draco asked. He started to add that he had no idea why the hell they were being so cordial to one another, but then he remembered the plumbing and the fact that he'd agreed to grow a real personality and let it drop. Besides, Hermione was a hot parcel of witching property and he intended to have a piece.

"You don't know what it's like," she insisted, grabbing the front of his robes and dragging him down to her, nose to nose. "Out there," she whispered. "It's _awful_. Wizards climbing all over me- I've never even wanted to shag a boy and they're just throwing themselves at my feet!"

Draco felt himself grow insanely jealous at this announcement and pulled her to him, much as his father had done minutes before.

"I'll save you from them all, Hermione," he swore. "You can have your party in here. If any of those other swine even so much as try to set finger inside, I'll avada them to hell and back."

Hermione shivered delightfully and was horrified to realize she enjoyed his display of insane jealousy. Bloody were-fairy. Bloody dark arts. Bloody, _oh_, delectable, _umm_…her thoughts trailed off as Draco's mouth found hers again.

She wondered when the plot would resume.

She hoped it was after the hot sex.


	10. In which blah blah blah, hot sex!

**I don't own it, blah blah blah. BLAH.**

**AN: Whew, been a while.**

* * *

_When last we saw our intrepid, perfect, tiny heroine of a bookworm, she was in Draco's arms, about to have hot sex. Will it actually occur? Will Lucius interrupt? Will this fic morph into the perfect storm of every other fic cliche imaginable, even more so than it already is? Yes, yes it will. And has your snarky authoress been reading a plethora of terrible marriage law and veela mate fics? Why, does it show that much? XD_

_

* * *

_Draco wrapped his strong, muscular, handsome arms about her and brought his handsome, perfect face close to hers, his perfectly sculpted lips covering her pink, rosy, swollen ones in a perfect kiss. She moaned at the slightest touch of those velvety, full lips to her own and felt him crush her to his broad chest, felt herself lost in his embrace. Her lips parted as his tongue sought entrance and enticed hers to dance. Their mouths locked to one another for minutes before he finally broke free and they both panted for air.

"Hermione, my…love," he groaned and she felt herself burst into flames at her name upon his lips.

After that, it was a matter of seconds until he'd ripped their clothes from both their bodies and they were naked in one another's arms. Draco picked her up and continued to plunder her mouth with his tongue before lowering his head and nipping at her neck and shoulders tenderly. She sighed with ecstasy at his love bites and moaned loudly as he caressed her delectable, firm bottom. His fingers ghosted along the valley between her cheeks and she shivered with delight before he arrived in his room and deposited her on the now cat hair-free spread. He followed her onto the bed immediately and she looked up at him coyly, batting her eyelashes as he spread her legs and put his fingers to that valley again.

His body was one long, lean line of perfectly taut muscle and toned limbs, making his pale skin appear like that of a sculpture in marble and she couldn't help the way her eyes traveled down him to that other part of his anatomy. He was so large, so erect and hard, so clearly desiring of her, so full of lust. She wasn't sure he'd fit, he was so big, but she brought her eyes up to his again, her own hazel, green, chocolatey orbs full of questions.

"Oh, my love," he murmured, holding her close, "I will be gentle, you'll see. We need not do this right now, if you are afraid."

Hermione briefly wondered when she'd stepped into a romance novel, decided it didn't matter much as Draco had suddenly gotten really _hot_, and pursed her lips up at him as she draped her arms around his neck.

"Make love to me, Draco," she murmured. She hoped their having sex now wouldn't affect the were-fairy, or vice versa. Or that she could at least get off once or twice before it kicked in.

Draco answered her by bringing his mouth to hers again and then slowly, tantalizingly, monotonously, slothfully kissed his way down her pale, soft throat to her chest; where he drank in her breasts, worshipping them with his teeth and tongue, lavishing wet, smoochy, moist kisses all over them until her nipples stood up as hardened peaks; topping those soft, perfect mounds, those perfect globes of pale, perfect flesh that heaved with every gasping breath she took.

When she thought she could no longer stand it, he laved his tongue down her stomach, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the soft, tender skin there, drinking in the smooth curve and the way her hips broke the line of her body. Then finally, blessedly, he'd arrived at her core- her molten center that dripped with desire and smelled of strawberries and cherries and lilies and lilac. He gripped the aforementioned delectable hips and buried his perfectly sculpted nose between her spread folds, inhaling her perfect, intoxicating scent. She mewled at his touch, at the feel of his fingers gripping her hard and his breath warm across her skin and nether-lips. The fire in her belly erupted as he stuck his tongue out and slowly, tentatively, took a taste of her. Her juices- so warm and delightfully musky and aromatic trickled over his tongue and he savored that first taste before delving back to her core for more. She spread her legs wider for him and his tongue ravished her center, running over her folds, licking her clean only for her to flood his mouth again and again.

And when his tongue finally reached her perfect little nub of a pleasure center she thought she would never be able to think, or speak, or breathe again. He swirled his tongue so expertly around her nether regions, paying especial attention to that glistening, rosy bud, that in a few minutes she wondered not only where he'd picked up such good technique, but if she'd ever truly orgasmed before tonight. Her legs shook as he held them down and continued to lap at her while she trembled violently. But in the next second he'd crawled back over her and she felt him placing the head of his enormous, rock-hard and perfectly handsome cock at her entrance.

"Wait!" she cried, clutching at his shoulders even as she continued to ride out her perfect, incredible orgasm, her face flushed and her breasts heaving, her hips bucking and her toes curling.

"Are you a virgin, my love?" he asked and gazed down at her tenderly. She shook her head.

"No! That's the trouble- how can you want me when I am so impure?"

"Oh, Hermione," he began quietly, kissing away the tears which suddenly sprang to her eyes and simultaneously fingering her to make sure she was still in the mood, "I'm a teenaged boy. Of course I still want you. And does my manhood not throb with desire for you? Now come for me again, my love. I want to feel you around me."

Hermione glanced down between them and saw that he was, indeed, throbbing with desire for her. She looked back at him and gave him the teeniest, tiniest of wee, small smiles. She looked so uncertain and beautiful that he had to stop himself from thrusting into her right then.

"Then please, I want to feel you inside me, Draco," she replied and he groaned. Gripping her hips, he began to lower himself into her, millimeter by millimeter and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out with the strangeness of it. He was so large, yet it wasn't entirely painful and horrid and terrible, although it did make her feel impossibly tiny and very feminine and tiny compared to his huge manliness. She simply felt incredibly full after a few seconds and then he pushed further into her more easily, her flooded channel making his passage into her smoother. He groaned again and she gave several soft moans as he spread her apart further, thankful she'd broken her hymen years ago from a combination of volleyball, horseback riding, and attempted games of quidditch at the Burrow. And then there was losing her virginity to Neville-

Draco's increasingly hard thrusts brought her out of her reverie of extracurricular activities and previous boyfriends and one-offs; and she lifted her hips to meet his, letting his large manhood ravage her molten, perfect core; and brush against her swollen bud with every thrust. It felt like hours that he pressed himself into her, over and over again, lips ravishing hers until they were both out of breath and sore and in dire need of blistex. And then he'd do it all over again, in every position imaginable, her clinging to his big, strong arms and shoulders; leaving scratch marks down his back as she felt his rippling muscles under her slender, tiny digits; as he wrapped his arms around her back and waist alternately, shifting his hands from her hips to her thighs to her face.

He finally felt himself ready to explode and empty himself into her and all over her when she found herself on her back again, both legs pressed straight up against his chest, one calf hooked over his shoulder lazily while he held the other leg and swiped his thumb along her bundle of nerves with the other hand.

She came for the fifteenth time that night and finally, mercifully, blessedly, _divinely_, his perfect cock twitched and jerked inside her five more times; and he tossed his head back and cried out to the canopy of his bed as he emptied his own love juices inside her; and she felt the walls of her once maidenhood clenching him tight, milking every last drop from him. She tossed her head back against the pillows as she came with him and wished she could always feel so full and satisfied and perfect with his beautiful, handsome body surrounding her and his perfect cock buried to the hilt inside her. Then, without warning, he gave one last cry and fell over her, his mouth seeking her neck and biting down, hard. She cried out again and felt him convulsing again, felt him actually lick her skin and taste her blood.

"Me, my love, mark me," he panted in her ear and presented his neck to her. She tried to shove at him, but he held her down and pressed his neck towards her mouth. And then he reached down and teased her rosy pearl once more and she cried out and, without thinking, bit down as well. His blood filled her mouth and she in turn licked at his skin as he had at hers and then managed to shove him away.

"What in hell was that, Draco?" she asked as she patted at her hair and gingerly touched the small wound he'd left, while she licked her lips and made faces.

"I have no idea," he said dazedly, lying back on the bed, staring up at the canopy. He felt quite sated and confused. "You know," he went on, "I suddenly feel as if every good thing I ever missed out on as a child is within my reach. I think I'll owl home immediately and free all the house elves."

"You can't do that, son, because I already did," Lucius Malfoy broke in. Hermione shrieked and covered herself with her blanket as the taller, older and more distinguished- and certainly more naked, though she wasn't sure how he'd managed that, considering Draco was just as devoid of clothes as he was- moved into the bedroom. Draco clapped a hand across his eyes.

"Father!" he cried and Lucius smirked, his eyes trained on Hermione's flushed, quivering features.

"I told you to wait for me before getting naked with my son, witch," he informed her and she finally found her voice.

Lucius wasn't expecting the Expelliarmus, so he flew backwards out the door and down the stairs from the impact, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor below. Draco dove out of bed and ran after him to make sure he wasn't dead, then helped Hermione swing him out the tower window and into a soft patch of flabbily-floo-bah bushes below.

"Will he be alright?" Hermione asked and Draco shrugged.

"Who knows? Leave him. Come back to bed with me, my mate."

"Mate? What in hell-"

Draco's brow furrowed. "Wait, what?"

"You're the one who said it, not me," Hermione pointed out and he shrugged again.

"Must be that plumbing potion crap garbage again," he said and she agreed, but still wouldn't go back to bed with him.

"We're hosting that party tonight," she said and his eyes widened.

"Merlin's balls," he said and she rolled her eyes, tossing her sleek chestnut curls over her shoulder. **(See what I did there? It's the makeover. I haven't forgotten about Tiff. Let me bang the point over your heads again a few more times to be sure you really understand, you five year olds.)**

"Your hair is really quite lovely this year," Draco murmured and Hermione gave him a look.

"Thank you," she preened as she picked up her clothes and made her way back to her own room and wardrobe. He followed her and watched as she dressed herself.

"And your wardrobe has gotten hotter," he added.

"Thanks again," she replied. "It's all thanks to my cousin, Tiff."

"Merlin bless your cousin," Draco said feelingly as he watched her naked tush prance about, choosing clothing. She picked out a skimpy, silky green dress edged with gold lace, slid it on without underwear, and spritzed sexy perfume all over. Draco took a deep breath and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and she squealed and shoved at him.

"Ew, Draco, go get dressed! They'll be here any minute now."

He nipped at her lips some and with one last kiss to what was a rapidly healing wound- a fact he didn't seem to notice or care about- he left to get dressed, as she commanded. She rubbed at her lips some and wondered why her were-fairy hadn't made an appearance in the last couple days. Could it be because she'd sated it by sleeping with her betrothed, who was also from a dark wizarding family? She resolved to check her book as soon as possible, but just then Crookshanks mewed up at her, alerting to her arriving guests and she summoned all the food and alcohol she'd gathered hours ago for the purpose of said party.

* * *

She needn't have bothered, because of course Ginny, Harry, and Ron and the host of other students they'd invited all brought their own things as well.

Hermione didn't bother trying to work out why so many underage wizards had all sorts of drugs and alcohol readily available. It was England, after all. They had fuzzy laws on that sort of thing, right? Like France. It was all Europe, anyway, so who was counting?

Eventually, all twenty five of them got down to the business at hand- playing Truth or Dare; which eventually (as it always does) dissolved into a game of Truth or Truth; because they were all far too drunk and lazy to stand up and perform any actual dares.

And of course the long, drawn out, giggle-filled game of Truth or Truth segued into a massive orgy/make-out session betwixt the witches and wizards. Ginny found herself snogging Harry, of course; and Neville found himself snogging himself; while Luna snogged that dark-haired young man named Gabriel, with the personality disorder and coke-bottle glasses. Then there was Ron, who snogged Neville's pet toad Trevor; and Parvati and Padma who snogged one another. And Seamus and Dean snogged each other in between snogging Katie Bell and Blaise Zabini. Pansy Parkinson was left with no one to snog and she left in a huff; and the rest of the mass of hormonal teenagers made out with any surface that would have them, including the sofa, the coffee table, and the portrait of Arthur, King of the Britons.

Hermione and Draco were just contemplating one another for another go in his bedroom when Crookshanks' second yowl of the evening alerted them that something was wrong.

Draco and Hermione sprang apart like the guilty, whoring little trollops they were and raced to the balcony to look down on their common room, where nearly all the men in the room were writhing in terrible pain. Draco immediately hit the floor and began writhing in the most excruciating, awful, horrid pain as well (seriously, you've never felt pain this terrible and awful- it's the most awful thing you've ever gone through and magnified by twenty gajillion) and Hermione gasped and knelt beside him. What on earth was happening? Without a second thought to her own intoxication or lack of underwear, she turned and raced down the stairs and ran from the room, calling for help.

But her head was full of a yearning for one thing, and one thing only.

Muffins.

Needless to say, on her way for help she was diverted to the kitchens, leaving the boys to writhe in terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad pain for an additional fifteen minutes. But after she had a muffin between her teeth she remembered the task at hand and went for help.

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**AN: I had SO MUCH FUN writing this. Seriously, for realz.**


	11. In which blah blah blah, Veela!

**I don't own it and make no money! **

**AN: I've written so much drama lately I had to take a break with this thing. Enjoy! **

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_When last we left our intrepid and unlikely heroine, she had just made fantastic, amazing, glorious, perfect love to her perfect, devoted, brilliant, beautiful lover with whom she intends to make love frequently, Draco Malfoy. However, before they could continue their illicit and explicit activities, the party was interrupted by all the boys turning into bird things! What will happen next? Will Hermione find a cure for hepatitis? Will Neville find a cure for stupidity? Will Ron just die already? Let's find out…_

* * *

McGonagall opened her door quickly at Hermione's insistent knocking. Peering out at the girl, the older witch drew her robes closer around her and looked her up and down.

"Miss Granger!" she exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour, in that state of dress, and – is that a muffin?" she asked, pausing.

Hermione tugged her short dress as far down about her legs as it would go without leaving her topless and nodded emphatically. She hesitated and then held out one of the extras she'd snagged from the kitchens, moments before. "Would you, er, care for one?" she asked reluctantly around her own mouthful of muffin.

McGonagall raised one brow sky high…and then reached forward and took the proffered muffin. "Don't mind if I do," she said. "Now, what is all this about?"

"Oh, Professor-slash-Headmistress," Hermione wailed, bits of muffin flying everywhere, "the boys – the party – terrible pain – seriously, you've never felt pain like the pain they seem to be in!"

"What's this? You had an illegal party in Heads' common room?" McGonagall demanded, completely ignoring the bit about horrible pain, and Hermione decided to pick at some lint on her dress. "Well," said McGonagall, "you'd better take me there so I can hand out suitable punishments."

Hermione decided not to argue, were-fairy or not, and led her House Head back to her common room. When they got there, Arthur, King of the Britons, gave them fair warning.

"Art thou absolutely certain thou desirest to enter yon portal?" he asked, cringing behind his shield. Hermione poked the painting in the chest, causing him to cower further, though of course it didn't hurt him any.

"Just open up, Arthur," she said and he did. Hermione and McGonagall gasped as the entered the common room for there, on the floor sat a rather naked few girls surrounded by rather large, warbling baby birds. The naked girls, upon spying Hermione and McGonagall, flung themselves out the nearest window to land in the same shrubs that Lucius had and began cavorting with one another under cover of bush and bramble. Hermione pretended nothing untoward had just occurred and focused on pointing out the birds to her House Head.

"See, Professor? All the boys are gone! What are we supposed to do? They were screaming in terrible, horrible pain, the worst pain in the entire universe, just minutes ago I _swear_!" At that, Hermione lost her head and began running about the room screaming for Draco and the other boys and the wound where Draco had bitten her throbbed painfully.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall shouted and Hermione stopped. "Eat a muffin and let me think!" she demanded and Hermione sat down and shoved a muffin in her mouth. McGonagall sighed a few minutes later as the large, rather grotesque baby birds began hopping about and cheeping loudly. "Miss Granger," she said over the noise of the birds, "we will have to consult Albus. Come with me."

Hermione followed her obediently, munching muffins the entire time, shedding crumbs behind her as she went. The baby birds were extremely interested in the crumbs and followed her, cheeping the whole way.

Dumbledore answered his door personally as soon as they'd trooped up the stairs and he goggled at the sight of Minerva and Hermione with a gaggle of overgrown hatchlings following them. Well, to be fair he goggled on a fairly regular basis, but this time his wide-eyed ogling was directed at something, rather than him merely mooning about anything and everything – and sometimes nothing at all. Minerva tutted at him and pushed him back into his office, making room for Hermione and her flock.

"Albus, do behave. And for Merlin's sake, put on some robes."

At the Headmistress's words, Hermione realized that Dumbledore was indeed naked. She stuffed yet another muffin in her mouth in an effort to ignore the fact and was rewarded with a choking episode. Minerva smacked her on the back a few times while she spoke to Dumbeldore directly.

"Albus, I'll be direct," she said in a pinched voice. "It has come to my attention that the children of this school have been engaging in untoward activities under the guise of their titles and I am most disturbed!"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore responded, his voice drifting out to them from his rooms where Hermione fervently hoped he was getting dressed.

Minerva continued. "Furthermore, we cannot let this stand and must punish them appropriately before taking any other actions, especially considering that it is quite likely an entire group of young men – this school's best and brightest – were transfigured into birds because of magic performed while under the influence!"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore repeated, reappearing in the doorway. He was now fully clothed, Hermione noted with relief. She munched her muffins a little more slowly.

Minerva scowled. "Albus, were you even listening?"

He smiled at her and spread his arms. "When do I not never not listen, Minerva, my old friend?"

It took Minerva more than a minute to work that one out, but in her defense it was rather late at night and the cheeping of the bird things was rather loud and distracting. Dumbledore seemed to notice them finally as well and he turned to Hermione, his hands spread wide, a large, toothy grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Ah! I see you've discovered my latest plan for house unity and wizarding repopulation," he remarked and rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Hermione stared at him in less than gleeful anticipation. Minerva continued to try and work out the triple negative – was there even such a thing as a triple negative? She didn't know. She was a witch, after all, and had never had Grammar in school. Hmph. Muggles and their ridiculous obsession with language. As long as one could wave a wand, mathematics, science and the English language were pretty much up to individual interpretation – much as they were in the imaginary domain of fanfiction.

"Headmaster," Hermione began around a mouthful of muffin, "what are you talking about? Do you mean this is all part of some plan to promote school unity in order to better preserve the magical world and aide its recovery from the effects of the last war?" She paused and her eyes went wide. "Wait a minute. The war isn't over yet. Is it?"

"Of course it is!" Dumbledore crowed with an ever increasing amount of glee so that Hermione feared he was in danger of becoming a member of a terrible television show produced on Fox. She put her hand up and Dumbledore attempted to focus on the plot again.

"Yes, Miss Granger? For your manners, fifteen points to Hufflegryffclaw!"

"Fifteen points to what?" Hermione asked, quite distracted. She looked to McGonagall for guidance, but the older witch had drawn out an old Dick and Jane reader and was busy attempting to follow the headmaster's reasoning. She wondered if Spot would catch the ball.

Hermione shook her head and turned back to Dumbledore and tried to understand him as he explained himself.

"Oh, it's just the name of our new, combined dormitory to promote unity."

"But what about Slytherin?"

"Who?"

"Slytherin, you left off using any part of their title in the renaming."

"What? Did I? Oh, well, can't have everything. Besides, I always hated those bastards. In fact, I may have banished their dormitory altogether…"

Hermione gasped and wondered if all this were just a massive prank to get her back for going through his personal library. At the wild gleam in Dumbledore's eyes, she decided not to risk asking and ate another muffin. Anyway, at least she was pretty sure Draco was still at the school, even if he was a giant baby bird now, and he was the only Slytherin she cared about at all.

"So," she went on, "Back to this unity thing…"

"And marriage law," Dumbledore added.

"Right, whatever," Hermione said. "We'll get back to that."

"And our new American exchange program is to be combined with it – was actually their idea, can you imagine? Lovely of them, really. They have some fascinating thoughts on using false pregnancies to bring together youth in times of trouble."

"False pregnancies…?" Hermione found she was having trouble focusing on the plot as well – which wasn't unusual, but was irritating, especially as she was running out of muffins.

"Where was I?" Dumbledore suddenly stopped and asked, looking around blankly.

At that moment a slightly less nude than before Lucius suddenly appeared at the edge of the window and clambered up and over the sill to land with a thud on the floor of Dumbledore's office. The baby birds were immediately taken with him and began cheeping at an even higher pitch than before. He stood up, looking mildly disgruntled and glanced about, smiling winningly at Hermione before turning his attention on the headmaster, who was dancing atop his sofa and singing a bad cover of Lady Gaga.

Hermione would've asked how Dumbledore knew who Lady Gaga was, but she figured it was just Time-turners again.

Lucius' smooth, silky, sexy voice invaded her ears and she felt a gush of warmth to her lady bits. She felt guilty and looked at the flock of baby birds, wondering which was Draco. Ah, the one with intelligent grey eyes, of course. As if he'd been waiting for her to recognize him, he chirped and hopped over to her, putting his ugly little bird head on her lap. She made a face and pet him hesitantly while she looked back up to Lucius, who was now explaining the situation to Dumbledore in great detail…or he would've been, if Dumbledore hadn't been severely distracted by Lucius' lack of clothing.

"Will you stop staring?" he hissed and Dumbledore seemed to come to long enough to notice they had an audience.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" he repeated, flailing his arms about madly. "You had a question, I believe, about how the war could possibly be over."

"Yes," she replied, "and don't try to tell me it's because of Time-turners again because that's a load of rubbish."

"Time-turners? No, I don't think they're the reason. In fact, you should know that it came to my attention just today that Voldemort has, in fact, in reality, been actually, completely, really, truly and for the final time ever _dead_ these last such-and-such years. When the curse rebounded he just died, kaput and Lily's love for her son caused every Horcrux in the universe to explode!"

Dumbledore giggled and Lucius and Hermione stared at him. Even Minerva put down her reader long enough to do so.

"Albus, what is the meaning of this?" she asked and the headmaster leapt from the table to the desk and started doing the can-can.

"I discovered quite by accident, and with the help of a group of teenagers and a large, mangy dog, that it was old man Smithy who lives down by the lake and wanted us to sell Hogwarts so that he could dig up the treasure left here by the founders!"

"What?" the trio said in unison and the birds cheeped madly. Dumbledore twinkled some more and a crotchety old man hopped out of his office, tied to a chair.

"And I woulda gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for those darn kids!" he exclaimed. He hopped about some more and his chair went off balance so that he suddenly toppled backwards to fall out of a nearby window to his death below. Hermione, Lucius and Minerva watched this happen with looks of horror on their faces. Dumbledore clapped his hands together in delight as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Oh, yes. There is no Voldemort any longer. It was all a contrived plot so that we would leave and let someone else have the treasure. However, as that is no longer the case, I have decided a few things that will make the coming year even more interesting!"

"Are these things more or less interesting than a marriage law slash false pregnancy scheme with an American exchange to promote better wizarding world communication and house unity except for Slytherin?" Hermione found the intelligence to ask, although her IQ immediately lost at least fifty points for even thinking the words.

Dumbledore stopped and thought about that for a moment. "More," he finally said and hopped off his desk. He picked up a candy dish and offered it around. "Chocolate frog?"

Everybody took one and Hermione rested a hand on the Draco-bird thing's head again as she munched the sweet. The Draco-bird thing cooed. Lucius glanced over at the pair of them with an annoyed expression on his face. Minerva glanced at everyone with an annoyed expression on her face.

"Oh, do get on with it!" she said and Dumbledore smiled and agreed.

"Well, as I was saying, the first change is this American exchange. We will have some Americans come here for the year, of course and send some of our students there. I've already taken the liberty of sending all of Slytherin house, except those students who were being very naughty and weren't in their dorm at curfew."

He leveled a sly look at Hermione and the Draco-bird thing chirped and tried to hide under her robes where he began doing more naughty things. Hermione thought that was a little gross and probably wrong – she was a were-fairy, not a furry or into bestiality, for pete's sake – so she smacked him and he emerged, looking chagrinned. Rather, looking how she imagined a bird-thing would look if it were chagrinned. Lucius looked more than annoyed, he looked jealous. Hermione tried valiantly to ignore that.

"But, Headmaster," she said, quite forgetting that he was her cousin and she could call him by his first name or whatever, "you said earlier you'd banished them."

"And so I did! To an exchange in America. That solves that problem. If only I could've sent everyone except a few key students. Alas. Another chocolate frog?"

More sweets were passed around. Dumbledore went on.

"The new students have not arrived yet, but will soon enough. Well, just two new students, really. It would only be one, Miss Granger, but I decided it would be nice to create some conflict between you and your boyfriend, so one of the new students will be an extremely good-looking, talented young wizard. His name is Parry Rotter. The other student you know already, I believe. Tiffany is her name."

Hermione gasped. "My cousin Tiff?" she asked hurriedly, but Dumbledore had already lost interest in the conversation and was dancing a jig on the ceiling.

"Tell us about this ridiculous plan for new coursework, Albus!" Minerva demanded and he beamed down at her and danced clear down a wall and into his room where sounds of cavorting could be heard. Hermione looked between her two professors warily.

"So we still don't know why the boys all turned into bird things," she said and Lucius smiled slowly.

"Ah, Hermione, my darling. I believe I can answer that question. You see, they are in Veela form right now."

Hermione didn't even know – like, she _didn't even know_ what to say to that, so she stuffed another muffin her mouth and waited for the stupidity to pass. Minerva looked very prim and prudish and straightened up in her chair.

"Tell us what you mean by that, Lucius," she ordered and he stood up and began to pace.

"Well, I knew my son had Veela heritage, but I didn't know about the others. Furthermore, the only way for them to turn into this form and begin their transformation to full grown Veela is if they have mated with their one true loves. Has any mating of any kind gone on in the last several hours, darling Hermione dearest?"

Hermione lied, of course and because Lucius saw her through the eyes of love he believed and trusted her.

"None at all!" she insisted. "Of course, there may have been alcohol consumption and illegal drug use, but other than that absolutely nothing untoward happened. I swear!"

"Of course, my pet dearest darling. I believe you. Minerva? Do you have anything to add?"

"Well…I suppose not," the co-headmistress murmured, watching everything doubtfully and wondering if she ought to just retire.

Lucius continued, "They will mature to their full-grown Veela forms once their true loves admit to loving them. However, if they fail to admit it within just two hours, then these young Veela will die."

Hermione blanched and immediately checked her watch. She looked up at the others.

"Erm," she said. "How long have we been here?"

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**AN: This thing is never going to end, you realize that, right? **


End file.
